Living a Life Not Mine
by writerchic16
Summary: A wish for true love causes Reba and Barbara Jean to switch bodies.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is the third story in a trilogy - the first two were "Living a Dream" and "Living a Nightmare." Thanks to all who read and reviewed those! It's okay if you haven't read the other two. I explain the concept of the trilogy in this chapter. Hope you like it!

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**Prologue**

**January 2008**

Wiping sweat from her brow, Reba reached higher for the Christmas garland that hung from the ceiling. She knew she could get it, if she could only stand on her tip-toes a _little_ more…"Come on," she muttered, grabbing for the tape that held the green strand in place.

She nearly screamed when she suddenly felt someone's hands around her waist and pick her up. "Ah! Adam, let me down _now_!"

"Sure," Adam laughed, placing her not back on the chair but on the living room floor. After nearly ten months of dating, he'd become a member of the family, celebrating all the holidays with them. It hadn't been a smooth road, but they managed to make it work. And it helped that they were both incredibly in love with each other.

Most of the time, anyway. Reba glared at him. "I can _do it_ myself!"

"After what happened last time? Ha ha, I don't think so!" Van exclaimed from behind her. He'd been assigned the job of taking the delicate ornaments, wrapping them in newspaper and putting them cardboard boxes. He, along with Cheyenne, Elizabeth, and her baby boy, had come over to help take down Christmas decorations and take out the tree to the curb. Jake and Lori Ann were helping too. Kyra would've been there, but she'd had a tour date she needed to get to almost the day after New Year's.

Reba frowned at Van, her arms crossed. Before she could object, Adam stepped up on the chair and took down the garland himself. "Really, Reba, the last thing we need is you falling and hitting your head on the table," he agreed, folding the garland and putting it in a nearby box.

"Will you stop bringing that up? As if I need reminding," Reba retorted, smacking him on his shoulder. Ever since she'd told him about her coma, all he'd done was worry about her blood pressure. And she despised it when people fussed over her.

With a sigh she remembered the events of last year…

It all started when she'd been taking down Christmas decorations, slipped, hit her head, and fell into a coma. While unconscious, though, something strange happened – she'd been transported to the past, before the divorce. After some major confusion, her longtime ex-boyfriend Terry, who'd died some years ago, appeared and told her that he was her guardian angel. Eventually she'd worked out her issues and woke up in her own time within two weeks.

She had to admit that at first when she'd woken up, she'd thought the whole thing was a very weird dream. But then a few months later, she'd gotten into a fierce argument with Kyra. So then Terry had gotten the bright idea to bring her eighteen-year-old self back from the 1970's. It'd freaked both Reba's out at first, but then they got over it. While eighteen-year-old Reba went back to her own time, and the current Reba had talked out her problems with Kyra. She and her daughter were closer than ever now, and Kyra called home at least once a week.

For the past few months, her life had been relatively normal, except for a visit from Terry every once in a while. Kyra was on tour, becoming more famous as she went – the family had stared at the radio in disbelief when Kyra's voice came from it one day. Cheyenne had her baby, and after the whole argument about names, she _did_ end up calling him Brock in a fit of emotional hysteria after he was born. Barbara Jean and the original Brock hadn't gone as far as renewing their vows, but were pretty stable when it came to their relationship. Meanwhile, Jake was graduating middle school next year, and Henry and Elizabeth were both in first grade.

And Reba was making wonderful progress with Adam, as well as her singing career. She wasn't famous yet, but she had a few fans who showed up at every local gig she played. Sure, the family was astonished when she declared her love for singing, but one by one they came around to support her. Of course, she wasn't totally reckless – she still kept up a thriving real estate business (she'd made sure to throw that fact in Brock's face, when he made the point that _she_ didn't support _him_ during his temporary stint as a pro golfer).

The best part was that Terry's visits were growing fewer and farther between. She hadn't made a wish since the last incident with her younger self. After all, why _would_ she when her life was perfect?

"Mom!" Jake exclaimed, waving his hand in front of her face.

Snapping out her reverie, Reba realized she'd be sitting on a dining room chair, running a piece of tinsel through her fingers and staring into space. Embarrassed, she quickly stuffed the tinsel in the box closest to her. "Sorry, thinking about something. What'd you say, Jake?"

"I asked which box this goes into," Jake answered, holding up a glass figurine of a dove.

Lori Ann jumped out of her seat and took it out of the surprised boy's hands. "I'll get that. You, uh, go put away some _unbreakable_ items."

"Okay," Jake shrugged, going off to take down more ornaments.

Chuckling, Reba said, "Thanks, Lori Ann. I was trying to figure out the best way to tell him to put it down and back away. It goes in that box over there."

As Lori Ann was wrapping the statue in newspaper, she sat down next to Reba on another dining room chair. "So, what were you thinking about?"

"Well…last year," Reba answered with a glance at Adam to make sure he wasn't within earshot. She needn't have worried. He was arguing with Van over the best way to get the Christmas tree out of the house. Every few minutes Cheyenne yelled at them to quiet down so they didn't wake the sleeping baby.

Smiling at the comedic picture, Reba continued, "You know, since Adam mentioned my coma it brought back…_other_ memories."

Lori Ann rolled her eyes. "Reba, you have to tell him."

"Why?" Reba whined. "Who says I have to tell him I'm a freak? Samantha Stephens waited until after her and Darrin were married, and she was a witch!"

"Now Reba, you _know_ you're wrong when you start using television characters as your main defense," Lori Ann chided.

Reba didn't respond right away, knowing that Lori Ann was right. With a sidelong glance at Adam, she sighed. "He won't believe me. He'll think I'm insane, dump me, then make sure I'm taken away by men in white coats."

"You're exaggerating…probably…" Lori Ann trailed off, wincing when Reba narrowed her eyes at her. "Look, just do it already and get it over with. Worse comes to worse, he thinks you're a loon and dumps you."

Glaring at Lori Ann, Reba retorted, "Thanks, I feel so much better now."

Lori Ann gave her a weak smile. "You know what I mean."

"Anyway, I don't see why I have to tell him. It's not a _big_ part of my life, and if something weird happens I'll…just tell him he's dreaming. That always works, right?" Reba asked, not quite making eye contact with Lori Ann and anxiously tapping her fingers on her knee.

Smirking, Lori Ann replied, "Come on, Reba. You know better than that. Is that what you'd tell one of your kids if they came up to you with the same problem?"

"Since when do you give good advice?" Reba huffed, putting her chin in her hand. She stared at Adam, who was now being forced to play dolls with a persistent Elizabeth. _He deserves to know the truth about me…even if it does make him think I'm a nutcase._ "Fine, I'll tell him."

"Good," Lori Ann said, patting Reba on her shoulder. They looked up as Adam walked over to them. "And here comes the poor, unsuspecting …"

"Shut up," Reba muttered, elbowing the blond in the stomach.

When Lori Ann went to sit next to Cheyenne, Adam sat in the seat she'd left. "Hey honey," he said, kissing Reba on the cheek. "I'm so sorry to cut this short, but I just got a call from work. One of my cases is now in custody of Houston law enforcement."

"You better hurry then," Reba said.

Kissing her again, Adam assured her, "I promise I'll be back tomorrow to take out the tree."

"Most likely it'll be here, but Brock said he might come over to take it…" Reba trailed off and sighed. "…it'll be here." As he got up to go, she clutched his arm. "Hey, um…"

"What?" Adam asked, curious.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Reba smiled. "Nothing, it's not important."

"Alright, see you later," Adam replied, saying good-bye to the others as he went out the front door.

Reba put her head in her hands. She'd been about to say there was something she needed to tell him, and could they have dinner soon to talk about it. But she just couldn't do it. _I'm such a dang chicken._

"Mom, are you okay?" Cheyenne asked from the couch, turning to look at her mother with concern.

Getting out of her seat, Reba sat on the couch next to her daughter. "No. I have to tell Adam, and I don't think I can do it."

"You still have to," Lori Ann insisted with narrowed eyes.

Van wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Tell him what?"

"You know, my little secret," Reba answered. When Van and Cheyenne still looked bewildered, she explained, "That I have a very active guardian angel? _Hello_, do we not _remember_ the Nell incident?"

"Oh…" they both said in unison.

As her eyes widened in realization, Cheyenne's gaze fell on the Christmas star that was still on top of the tree. "Hey, you said that all those things happened because you wished on that star, right?"

Jake glared at his mother. "Yeah. I still can't believe you won't let me wish for a car."

"First of all, it only works for me…I think," Reba retorted. "And secondly, you're thirteen. What are you gonna do with a car?"

Jake shrugged. "Van can use it until I'm sixteen."

"Aw, man!" Van exclaimed. "Come on, please Mrs. H?"

Shaking her head, Reba insisted, "_No_. _No one_ is making a wish on that star…"

"Are you sure?" Cheyenne asked. "Because I was about to suggest that you just _wish_ that Adam knew, or that he'd be okay when you told him…"

Reba shook her head again, getting off the couch and pointing an accusing finger at the star. "No! _No one_ makes any wishes, period! That thing is _dangerous_!"

"Don't you think you're overreacting a little?" Jake asked hopefully. When Reba only gave him a stern look, he shivered. "Okay, fine. I'm going up to my room."

When he was gone, Reba turned to Van. "As a matter of fact, you come here and help me put it away. The sooner the better."

"Hey, Mrs. H, if that thing is so dangerous how come you don't destroy it?" Van asked as he reached for the star.

Reba hesitated before giving him a sheepish grin. "Because I'm afraid to."

* * *

The next day, Barbara Jean came over with Henry. She rang the doorbell, then waited. After a few minutes, she knocked. Still no answer. _Funny, Reba said she'd be here…_ She tried the doorknob, and when the door swung open, she peeked in. "Reba?" 

"Reba, you here?" Barbara Jean called, walking further and further into the living room, Henry following at her side. Finally she yelled at the top of her lungs. "_Reba!_"

After a moment she heard Reba's voice from upstairs. "I'll be right down, Barbara Jean! I'm just…doing something, be down in a minute."

"Okay," Barbara Jean called back, curious as to what Reba was doing that she couldn't tell her. "Sorry I couldn't make it to help with the decorations yesterday," Barbara Jean yelled. She and the family went to see her family for the holidays. It'd been a long trip, and she was glad to be home. "We'd thought we'd be home in time, but you know Brock when it comes to directions…"

"It's alright, there's still some decorations you can help with. I'll be down in a second," Reba replied, clearly not in the mood to have a conversation with their voices at this level.

Turning on the television for Henry, Barbara Jean leaned against the back of the couch to look at the mess of boxes and remaining decorations. Truthfully, she would've much rather been here not just instead of yesterday, but the whole trip. It'd been awful having to see her family with Brock at her side, pretending everything was perfect between them. When actually, it hadn't been perfect for a long time.

At first, when they reunited after the divorce, it'd been great. It was like new love. They were enjoying each other's company again, doing the stuff they used to do when they were dating (well, not exactly – it'd been much better not having to sneak around behind Reba's back). They went out to dinner, went dancing, went out as a family…

Then they started to fall into their old habits. He'd start acting distant and self-centered, always walking around in a bad mood. She tried to get him to open up about what was bothering him, and he would pull away, as usual. It was almost a year since their reconciliation, and they were right back where they started.

Sometimes she thought she deserved it. Sometimes she honestly thought _well, this is what you get for stealing another woman's husband_. She knew it'd been years, and Reba was over it, but still…she'd wrecked so many marriages in the past, it was only fair that she wouldn't be able to find true love.

At least Reba was with Adam now. It burned Barbara Jean's conscience to see her best friend go through a handful of dead-end relationships, while she was happily married…for the most part. She hoped that time was over – it would break her heart if Reba and Adam didn't work out. She really liked Adam, since he was a good guy, and it was obvious he made Reba happy. With a smile Barbara Jean thought of how upbeat Reba had been ever since she'd found Adam. In fact, it was almost like the Reba she'd known for the past seven years was a completely different person.

Almost. Lately, Barbara Jean noticed Reba tensing up every time Adam was around. She'd tried to get Reba to open up about what was bothering her, but the redhead just wouldn't talk. Yet Reba continued to be very distant and nervous whenever Adam was over.

_I hope nothing's wrong,_ Barbara Jean thought. _I'd be a shame if Reba broke up with him after a ten-month relationship._

Then she saw it. She'd been looking around the room for the past few minutes, amazed at the amount of boxes. Her gaze had fallen on a pointed edge sticking out of a box. She reached down and took it out, curious to see what it was. It was the Christmas star that had been on top of the tree.

Delighted, Barbara Jean turned it over in her hands. She'd always been one to believe that wishes made on a Christmas tree star actually came true…

_One little wish can't hurt._

Bur what could she wish for? She did want her and Brock to stay together…but she wanted Reba to find her true love .._wait, that's it!_

Holding the star with both hands, she said, "I wish that Reba and I each find our true love."

_There, nothing can go wrong with that wish,_ Barbara Jean thought, still holding the star. She looked up as Cheyenne came through the kitchen door, holding the carrier baby Brock was sleeping in. "Hey, Barbara Jean," she greeted, putting the carrier down on the floor next to Henry. "Where's Mom?"

"Upstairs," Barbara Jean answered, pointing to the staircase with the star in her hand.

Cheyenne's eyes widened, as if surprised. "B-Barbara Jean, um…w-what were you doing with that star?"

Thinking nothing of it, Barbara Jean put the star back in the box. "Oh, I know this is going to sound silly, but I always believed that if you wished on a Christmas star it comes true…"

"Oh my God," Cheyenne whispered, but Barbara Jean could still hear it. "Barbara Jean…what…_exactly_…did you wish?"

Barbara Jean raised an eyebrow at Cheyenne's odd behavior over a little wish, but said nothing about it. "Um…that Reba and I each find our true love…"

"Oh God!" Cheyenne wailed again, then made a mad dash for the stairs. "Mom! Mom! I have to tell you something! _Now_!"

Staring at the girl's retreating back, Barbara Jean put a hand on her hip. _Now what the heck was that about?_


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Hope you like the story! I should be updating fairly quickly, as I have three weeks until I go back to college and I'm so incredibly bored, lol.

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**Chapter 1**

Cheyenne ran up the stairs, not caring how she looked in front of her stepmother. _This is bad…_ she kept thinking. _This is bad…this is _so_ bad…Mom is gonna freak!_ The good thing at least was that Barbara Jean was totally in the dark about the whole Terry situation, so Reba couldn't go storming into the living room raving mad without looking like a lunatic. Sure, they'd all considered letting Brock and Barbara Jean in one the secret a few times, but it just never seemed _necessary_. Why cause chaos when there was no reason for it? Their family was hectic enough.

Well, now there definitely was a reason.

"Mom?" Cheyenne shouted again, finally reaching her mother's bedroom. _What is she doing in there?_ She thought, pushing open the door. Her jaw dropped, and she stood rooted to the spot. "Oh…"

Her mother was talking to Terry, who sat on the edge of the bed. He looked exactly like he did the last time she saw him – shaggy brown hair, moustache, brown eyes. His outfit consisted of a blue plaid shirt and jeans, along with, at least in Cheyenne's eyes, an incredibly tacky white leather vest. "Hey, Cheyenne. Long time no see."

"Yeah, um, hi," Cheyenne replied, closing the door behind her. Trying to guess the mood of the conversation, she glanced at her mother. Reba sat on the chair that was in front of her desk, her arm casually slung over the back of the chair and the hint of an incredulous stare on her face. "Mom…are you okay?"

Shaking her head, Reba stood up, leaning against the vanity's table. "Yeah, fine. Just surprised – Terry here was just telling me he'll be on vacation for the next week "

"Angels get vacations?" Cheyenne asked, surprised. When Terry gave her a frustrated look, she realized too late that her mother probably asked the same thing.

Sighing, Terry explained, "What can I say, I have a good boss. And I need a break – watching over your mother is _exhausting_…"

"Hey!" Reba exclaimed, her hand on her hip. "My life wouldn't make you so exhausted if you'd just stop _messing_ with it."

"I wouldn't have to mess with it if you wouldn't make it so complicated all by yourself," Terry retorted.

Seeing that this could lead to a "did not, did too" fight, Cheyenne interrupted. "Okay, I get it. So, let me get this straight – my mother is going to be totally unprotected for a week?"

"I can handle not having _him_ bother me for a week," Reba huffed, crossing her arms.

Terry let out an aggravated sigh. "Of course you won't be alone. You'll still be watched over, but just like everyone else is – from a distance. And if there's an emergency I'll be here."

"So where does an angel like you go for a vacation?" Reba wondered aloud. "Is there a section of Heaven with cheap motel rates and all-you-can drink beer?"

"Hey! I'll have you know I've changed considerably since I was alive," Terry argued.

Curious herself, Cheyenne tilted her head. "Yeah, where _are_ you going?"

"I'm thinking of spending it down here, checking out a few places I never got to," Terry answered, shrugging.

Suddenly remembering the wish Barbara Jean just made, Cheyenne smiled with relief. "So, I guess you're just going to have to go, right? No time for anything else…"

"Nice try. I'm taking care of that before I leave," Terry chuckled, making Cheyenne's stomach do a nervous somersault.

Reba raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "Cheyenne, what's he talking about?"

Hesitating, Cheyenne squirmed a little under her mother's glare before blurting in one breath, "Barbara Jean found the Christmas star and made a wish that both you and her each find your true loves but you can't yell at her because she still doesn't know about _him_!" She finished the whole thing by pointing at the amused angel sitting on the bed next to her.

Staring at the both of them, Reba looked confused for a moment while she made sense of Cheyenne's words. Then her eyes widened as she whirled to glare at Terry. "Oh Lord, no, no no no no…you can't…"

"Sorry Reba," Terry chuckled. He waved to both of them. "See you two in a week."

Cheyenne received a little bit of a shock when he disappeared in a flash of golden light. Sure, she'd seen it before, but unlike her mother who stood there with a furious look on her face, Cheyenne wasn't used to it. "We have weird lives," she remarked.

Instead of replying, Reba stood there clenching and unclenching her fists. "Okay," she muttered. "First, I'm going to kill Terry, then I'm going to kill Barbara Jean."

"Terry's already dead," Cheyenne pointed out.

Reba ran for the bedroom door. "Then that's too bad for Barbara Jean!"

"Mom, no!" Cheyenne exclaimed, reaching the door first and pressing herself against it. "Mom, calm down…"

Trying to get passed Cheyenne, Reba demanded, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shove that dang Christmas star down her wish-making throat!"

"Uh, maybe because she doesn't know she did anything to deserve that?" Cheyenne breathed while trying resist her mother's freakishly strong grip. "Unless you want to tell her the whole Terry story _now_, you better _calm down_!"

"Oh…right…" Reba sputtered, stopping her attempts to get at the door instantly. She was still angry though, a fact obvious by the way she kept glaring at the door. "I'm sorry, I'm just worried! What is he going to do to me _now_?"

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Cheyenne replied, giving her a reassuring smile that made neither one of them feel better.

* * *

"How can you say that?" Barbara Jean cried, glaring at Brock through the tears welling in her eyes. After talking with Reba about her marriage problems earlier that afternoon, the redhead had suggested that she just _ask_ Brock why he was being so distant. So Barbara Jean had gone home and did just that…which led to the current argument they were having. Brock kept claiming that _his_ feelings were "none of her business." Clearing her throat, she repeated, "How can you _say_ that? Don't you think that 'your' feelings affect this entire family?' 

Brock stood there for a moment, not shocked or moved, but with an nonchalant frown on his face. "Look, Barbara Jean, I told you already – I don't feel like talking about it now, _okay_? I'll talk to you when I'm ready."

"You'll do no such thing!" Barbara Jean shouted, grabbing his arm before he could go upstairs. Her teeth clenched and her eyes wide with pulsing anger, Brock just about cowered before her "You listen to me, you little self-centered, uncaring jerk. I have been…_very_…patient, waiting for you to open up about what's wrong for the past few months. Yet you continue to show _no_ concern about how much you make me worry about you, just mope around while _I'm_ stuck taking care of Henry all by myself. Well, here's news for you, bud – I'm sick of waiting!"

_Now_ Brock was stunned. Frozen with shock, he stuttered, "W-what…I-I…"

"Yeah, while you stand there and do that, _I'm_ leaving," Barbara Jean sneered, snatching her purse that lay on the couch side table and her coat out of the closet.

Running to stop her, Brock took _his_ jacket off its hanger. "No, you stay here. I'll just go to a hotel…"

"_No_!" Barbara Jean screamed, startling him so much that he jumped back a few feet. "_No!_" she shouted again. She lowered her voice slightly, feeling her throat start to become hoarse. "Every single damn time we have a fight, _you_ get to go off to your cheap little motel room and stay there until you _feel like_ coming home and working things out. It's going to be very, very different this time, 'cause this time _you_ are staying _here_. _You_ are the one who is going to stay here and take care of Henry, while _I_ go and figure out what the hell _I'm_ feeling. And _I'm_ going not really going to give a damn about how _you_ feel about it!"

With that, she whirled around and stormed out of the room, slamming the front door closed behind her. She was around the corner when she stopped short.

_What the heck am I doing?_

What had she been thinking? She couldn't just storm out of her house, leaving her six-year-old with a possibly depressed adult, even if Brock _was_ Henry's father. But…she couldn't go back there, not after that speech she gave about _him_ being the one left behind after a fight. Yet there was Henry…

_Listen to yourself_, she thought. _You're questioning your decision to leave the boy with his _father_. Brock may be a real self-centered jerk, but he'll take care of his _son_ if he needs to._

That reasoning playing over and over in her head, she stopped to look around. She'd been so angry that she hadn't stopped to think of where to _go_. And, stupid her, instead of just getting in her car in driving, she'd started stomping down the sidewalk like a madwoman.

Rolling her eyes at her own lack of foresight, she turned around with the intent of getting in her car and driving to the nearest motel. Then she stopped again, realizing that she'd subconsciously been going in the direction of Reba's house.

_She's not going to like it,_ Barbara Jean thought. _It's late, she's definitely sleeping…and the last thing she's going to want to do is get in the middle of a fight between you and Brock. _

But… Barbara Jean was so tired, and so emotional that she didn't trust herself to drive responsibly. She could be driving around for hours in the middle of the night before she found an open motel with vacancy, and surely Reba wouldn't want that. Not to mention that she felt like she would crumble if she didn't have someone's shoulder to cry on.

Swallowing her pride, she marched the rest of the way to Reba's house, and before long she was standing on her best friend's front porch. With a nervous gulp she rang the doorbell. She tried again where there was no response. Figuring that Reba would have to wake up eventually, she kept pressing the doorbell until she felt her thumb start to hurt…

"Barbara Jean! What the heck are you…" Reba trailed off as she opened the door, her gaze taking in the blonde's tear-stained cheeks and frazzled appearance. "Oh Lord, what happened to you?"

Barbara Jean hiccupped, unable to stop the tears from spilling. "I-I'm sorry Reba, b-but I just had a huge fight with Brock and I stormed out and I just can't drive to a motel…can I please stay here? For the night, I promise! I was planning on going back home tomorrow night anyway, I just want Brock to worry."

"Lord knows he deserves it," Reba sighed, opening the door wider. "Okay, come on in. I'll get a blanket and you can sleep on the couch."

Once they were both in the living room and Reba had closed the front door, Barbara Jean wailed, "I'm sorry, Reba, I'm tired but I just don't think I can sleep – can we talk about it?"

"But it's almost mid…" Reba trailed off again, her protest dying on her lips at Barbara Jean's pleading, crestfallen look. "Fine. You go put on a pot of water for tea while I go get your blanket."

"Thanks, Reba," Barbara Jean said, wrapping the redhead in a bone-crushing hug. Instead of trying to get out of it like she usually did, Reba only patted the blonde on her shoulder and turned to go up the stairs. Feeling better already, Barbara Jean made her way towards the kitchen to put on the tea kettle.

* * *

The next morning, Reba awoke, but wasn't ready to open her eyes just yet. She was exhausted after staying up for at least an hour or two talking with Barbara Jean. Consoling the blonde had been no easy feat. After the fight with Brock, Barbara Jean had been convinced that her marriage was over, and that she was a horrible person for leaving her son basically alone. It'd taken a lot of convincing to get her to believe that everything was going to be okay, that Henry would be fine with Brock, that she'd done the right thing. But after Barbara Jean was happy and went to sleep, she'd stayed up tossing and turning, worrying about her ex-husband and his current wife. It was funny how she'd come to consider them family, never mind what they'd done to her in the past. 

While she _was_ concerned about Brock and Barbara Jean's marriage, she couldn't help but worry more about Terry and the wish. Even while the blonde had poured her heart out last night, in the back of her mind she'd been wondering what chaos Barbara Jean's wish would cause. The different scenarios she'd been coming up with in her head weren't pretty.

Turning over in her half-awake state, she tried to recall through a rather large headache if she had anything to do that day. It was a Saturday, so she didn't need to go into the office, thank the Lord. But if she remembered correctly, she still had to show a house later that afternoon for a couple who couldn't schedule an appointment during the week. Thankfully, that wasn't until the afternoon, so she had some time to get ready and relax.

Reba yawned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up…and hit a rough yet cushioned wall. Taking her hands off her eyes, she realized with growing confusion that she was waking up on her living room couch, facing the front door. Which was weird, since she thought she went upstairs to her bed last night.

Did she, though? She did stay in the kitchen a little while to clean up after Barbara Jean went to bed. Maybe Barbara Jean had gone up to her bed for some reason and she'd crashed on the couch…

The reasoning was thin, though, and she knew it. She did remember going up to her room last night. So what the heck was she doing down here?

Still feeling sleep in her eyes, she raised her hands to rub them again. But when she pulled them back, she saw with horror that they weren't _her_ hands. These strange, slim fingers were manicured and covered in a light blue polish, and the hands were smooth and showed no signs of aging. Well, she knew _her_ hands were slightly wrinkled and hadn't gotten a good manicure in years, so…whose hands were _these_?

_Oh Lord._

Praying that what she was thinking was wrong, she sat upright and ripped the blanket from what would hopefully be her own leg. Her breath became jagged from panic when she saw not her own but Barbara Jean's long, thin ones, covered in the jeans the blonde had been wearing last night.

Dread rising in her chest, she ran as fast as she could to the upstairs bathroom, throwing open the door and skidding to a stop in front of the large mirror above the sink. "Oh my Lord," she whispered, looking at not herself, but Barbara Jean in the mirror. She, Reba, now had long, blonde hair and the body of someone at least ten years younger.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to scream so loud that half the neighborhood would be calling 911.

But she used all her willpower to hold it in. Screaming like that would surely wake up Barbara Jean…her…whichever person was in her bedroom that moment. And what would she say? That her guardian angel thought it would be a good idea to cause them to switch bodies?

Though Barbara Jean would wake up eventually and discover the switch, _and_ wonder why Reba wasn't as confused as she was. While it occurred to Reba that she could feign bewilderment, it wasn't worth it. She might as well just tell Barbara Jean the whole story. They would have enough time for it – she wasn't going _anywhere_ looking like this.

No longer able to take looking at Barbara Jean's reflection, she left the bathroom and headed for her room. Maybe if she woke up…herself…and launched into a calm explanation of what was going on, Barbara Jean wouldn't have time for a screaming fit. Then again, this _was_ Barbara Jean. Who knew how _she_ would react.

Letting out a deep, steadying breath, Reba knocked on the door. Trying to make her voice sound the most like herself as possible, she called, "B-Barbara Jean? Barbara Jean, you up yet?"

When there was no answer, she opened the door with a tentative push. Peeking in, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw who was presumably Barbara Jean fast asleep. Even after all the things she'd seen in the past year, it was still unnerving to see _herself_ spread out across her bed, her _own_ red hair showing from under the blanket, her _own_ hand dangling over the side of the bed…while _she_ was standing in the doorway. Quelling her nerves, she realized she would have to wake Barbara Jean up herself and made her way toward the bed. "Barbara Jean?" she called again, coming over to the side. A little uneasy at the thought of using someone else's hands against her own body, she leaned against the closet and lifted her right leg, the foot of which was thankfully covered in a white sock. Though feeling very stupid, she nudged what was now Barbara Jean's shoulder. "Barbara Jean?"

Barbara Jean let out a tired groan and mumbled, "Reba, is that you? What's going on…" Opening her eyes, she wiped them while she sat up and turned to the side. It took her a minute for her vision to focus, but when it did…

"Oh my God!" Barbara Jean screeched, jumping onto the floor to face Reba. Horrified, she gave a long scream that had Reba covering her ears.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Who are you?" Barbara Jean demanded, grabbing an umbrella from the half-open closet and pointing it like a sword at her body. It was disorienting enough waking up in Reba's bedroom. Seeing _herself_ when she wasn't looking in a mirror was enough to give her a heart attack. _Maybe I'm dreaming,_ she thought. _I've always thought it would be cool to have a twin sister…_

Knocking the umbrella to the side, the imposter put her hands on her hips and formed her own mouth into a frustrated smirk. "I'm the alien that's taken control of your body, so I can use it to brainwash the world through your weather forecasts."

"What?" Barbara Jean panicked, her heart pounding in her chest. "You don't want my body! There's stretch marks, and a tattoo of 'I Heart Jesus' just over the right butt cheek!"

The thing inside her body rolled its eyes. "Barbara Jean! It's me, you mo_ron_…wait, what?" It paused, it's eyes widening as the head turned to try to look at its behind. "You really have a tattoo? I never knew that!"

Slowly, Barbara Jean lowered the umbrella. There was only one person she knew who pronounced "moron" that way. "R-Reba?"

"Well, duh!" Reba huffed, snatching the umbrella out of Barbara Jean's hands. "Like an alien would take over _your_ body when it could have…I don't know…anyone else! Besides, you're in my body – where the heck do you think I went?"

Barbara Jean's jaw dropped. She'd been so distraught over seeing her body, she didn't stop to think what _she_ looked like. Running to the vanity mirror, she wailed, "Look at me!"

"I know, I was a little shaken up too…" Reba said, coming to stand next to her in front of the mirror.

Still in shock, Barbara Jean gasped, "I'm _old_!"

"Excuse me?" Reba snapped.

Barbara Jean examined the wrinkles under her eyes. "Look at me! I've got wrinkles, _loads_ of them! And you should really consider having a good talk with your stylist about your dye job, 'cause there are tons of little gray hairs up there…"

"That's enough!" Reba demanded, smacking Barbara Jean on the shoulder. "You think it's any picnic being you either?"

Raising an eyebrow, Barbara Jean gestured to her body. "Uh, _yeah_! How can you not be happy with _that_? Especially when you're usually stuck with _this_?" Barbara Jean asked, pointing to herself.

"'Stuck'?" Reba repeated, holding up a threatening fist. "You better watch what you say, Barbara Jean. I'm a lot bigger than you now."

Barbara Jean gave a weak smile. Intimidating Reba in a body taller than her was certainly a frightening concept. "Okay, okay." She sighed, looking at her, well, Reba's reflection in the mirror. "Reba," she whispered, the seriousness of the situation dawning on her. "What are we going to do?

"Uh, well…" Reba trailed off, looking down at the vanity desk. "I'll tell you what we're not going to do. We're not going to tell Brock about this."

Hesitating for a moment, Barbara Jean nodded. While she hated to keep secrets, she knew that anyone they told would think that they were nuts. "Yeah, or anyone else."

"See now, that's where you're wrong," Reba replied, facing Barbara Jean. "I don't think there will be much of a problem getting Cheyenne, Van, or Jake to believe this. And I definitely don't want to have to pretend to be you more than I have to."

Before replying, Barbara Jean tried her hardest to make sense of that, Reba had a guilty look on her face, as if waiting to see if Barbara Jean understood that something wasn't right here. "Wait…" Barbara Jean said. "Why aren't you as freaked out about this as I am? And…why would Cheyenne, Van, or Jake believe us more than Brock would?"

Then it clicked. "This has to do with that secret, doesn't it?" Barbara Jean accused. "The one you and Kyra were keeping at first? And don't think I don't know Cheyenne and Van know, because Cheyenne was totally suspicious with me and then she just wasn't! 'Fess up, blondie!"

"Hey! I may be in your body, but I am _not_ a…never mind," Reba sighed, realizing how much her argument didn't make sense.

Crossing her arms, Barbara Jean demanded, "Come on, what do you know that I don't?"

"Okay, but I suggest you sit down," Reba answered, pointing to the edge of her bed. "This could take a while."

And it did, in fact, take a while. All through the explanation, Barbara Jean stared at Reba in shock, asking questions often. Reba paced as she talked, never looking Barbara Jean straight in the eye, as if Reba couldn't bear to see the look on her face that would tell whether or not Barbara Jean thought she was crazy.

But in a strange way, it all made sense. Barbara Jean always had the strangest sense that something odd was going on ever since Reba had her coma. And it explained why Kyra and Reba were so close now, and why Reba had started being so much nicer to her and Brock after Reba recovered. Plus there wasn't a member of the family who hadn't thought they heard Reba talking to someone, but then walked in and saw that she was the only one there.

Finally Reba finished, ending with the explanation that they were in each other's bodies because Barbara Jean made the wish on the star. "I know this all sounds crazy…even to you…" Reba concluded, halting her pacing to stop right in front of Barbara Jean. "But it's all completely true. I couldn't make this up if I tried."

"S-so you really have a guardian angel?" Barbara Jean asked, instantly regretting telling Reba about the tattoo. Reba nodded. "Can I meet him?"

Much to Barbara Jean's confusion, Reba let out a long, aggravated sigh. "No. The little jerk is on vacation this week."

"Seriously," Barbara Jean said, thinking maybe Reba was kidding. When Reba sent her a 'I'm serious' look, she muttered, "_Okay_ then."

Angry now, Reba stomped her foot. "Dang it, I don't care. He can't just leave us like this! I am not going through a week of being _you_!" Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted, "Terry! _Terry_!"

Barbara Jean gasped when a small, square piece of paper appeared in front of Reba, who snatched it out of the air. Clearing her throat, she read,

_Dear Reba and Barbara Jean,_

_On vacation._

_Don't bother me._

_You'll have to figure this one out for yourselves._

_Have fun!_

_Love, Terry_

"What kind of guardian angel _are_ you?" Reba shouted, crumpling up the paper and tossing it into the wastebasket next to the vanity. "I think he _enjoys_ making my life miserable!"

Biting her lip, Barbara Jean had to keep herself from laughing. She couldn't help herself – the situation was so ridiculous, and Reba was hilarious when she was angry. "Well, this isn't _that_ bad. I always thought it'd be great to be you."

Reba calmed down a bit at that. "Thanks, but I don't want to have to pretend to be married to Brock. Once was enough."

"But don't you see how this is good?" Barbara Jean asked, getting an idea. "You can work out my problems with Brock for me! You'll probably be better at that than I am!"

Shaking her head, Reba argued, "No, no way. You and Brock have to work out your own mess. But I do think it would be a good idea if 'you' stayed here until we switched back. Brock didn't know you were planning on coming home today, and I'll just call him later and say I'm still mad at him."

"But what about Henry? You can't leave him alone with Brock! He'll miss his mommy," Barbara Jean panicked, already thinking about how Henry had reacted this morning when he realized his mother wasn't there.

Reba sighed. "I'll bring Henry over here every once in a while, maybe pick him up from school every day so you can see him. But…don't worry about leaving him with Brock. You can say a lot of things about him, but Brock can be responsible when he has to be."

"Thanks, Reba," Barbara Jean replied, feeling a little better. "And I just want to say that…if I have to switch bodies with anyone, I'm glad it was with you."

Giving her a small smile, Reba said, "Thanks." Looking at the clock, she added, "I'm going to go back to your house now and get some clothes for the next few days. Hopefully Brock and Henry are out. I'll be back soon."

Once Reba left, Barbara Jean got up and stretched. Glancing down at herself she realized that Reba's body was still in flannel pajamas. Figuring she should get dressed while Reba was out, she thrust open the closet door. It was filled with jeans, V-necked cotton shirts, and sneakers.

Barbara Jean wrinkled her nose. "Ick."

* * *

"Ick," Reba muttered, looking at Barbara Jean's closet. Most of the clothes were too bight for her, or were imprinted with weird patterns, or were made of material that she could tell were itchy just by looking at them.

With a reluctant frown she grabbed a small suitcase she found in the corner of the closet. Throwing that on the bed, she rummaged through the clothes, searching for anything she wouldn't be _too_ embarrassed to wear. Reba breathed a small sigh of relief when she discovered a stash of jeans and t-shirts, then threw those in the suitcase.

Reba's eyes widened when she realized that she _would_ need to take Barbara Jean's other clothes. She'd have to go to work on Monday.

When she'd have to be the weather girl.

In one fluid motion she grabbed a bunch of filled hangars off the rack and dumped them in the suitcase, feeling as if she may throw up. She couldn't be on television. She couldn't act. Heck, it'd taken all her courage just to sing at the few gigs she'd had over the past few months.

And she didn't have the sort of personality that would be good for television. Barbara Jean was loud, outgoing and interesting. Everything Reba wasn't. The last thing Reba wanted to do was get Barbara Jean fired…

_Oh Lord,_ she gasped, remembering the appointment she had later that day. Barbara Jean would have to sell a condo to a couple that's been somewhat picky over the others Reba showed them in the past. The couple was getting impatient, and had casually mentioned getting another realtor or finding a home themselves. If she didn't make this sale, she'd lose them as clients, she was sure of it.

Before the switch she hadn't been worried. After weeks of searching, she thought she'd found the perfect home for them. All she had to do was sell it the right way.

Now she might as well throw her bonus out the window.

Cursing Terry's bad timing, she zipped up the suitcase with an angry yank. All Reba knew was that Terry better be thankful that a person couldn't be murdered while he was already dead.

Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Barbara Jean can do a lot if she set her mind to it. And forecasting the weather might not be too mortifying. It had crossed her mind that she could call in sick, but if Barbara Jean had to sell a house it would only be fair if she went to work too.

Reba picked up the suitcase and headed downstairs. At the landing of the bottom staircase she paused to sneak a peek of living room. She'd been lucky before – Brock and Henry were out. Which was good considering the last thing she needed was to…

"Put your coat in the closet, Henry."

"Okay, Dad."

_Crap._

Waiting until Henry ran into the kitchen, Reba let out a deep breath and steadied her nerves. Then she walked down the stairs, hiding the suitcase behind her legs. "Hello, Brock."

"Well, well, well," Brock sneered, not bothering to conceal a glare. "Decided to come crawling back, huh, Barbara Jean? I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away long. And don't worry about Henry – we've been having a great time. I just took him to the park."

_What a butt_, Reba thought. Though she didn't excuse him for his behavior, she could tell why he was acting this way. Barbara Jean said that she yelled at Brock good last night. No doubt the egotistic Brock was just "playing it cool" to gain some dignity back. But did he really think it would work? Did he really think false bravado would've made Barbara Jean see "the error of her ways"? Reba normally chose not to get in the middle of these fights, but in this case she had to side with Barbara Jean. Brock was just being a class A butthead. Smiling at him, she replied, "That's great, Brock. I was a little worried about Henry, but since you're having such a good time I don't feel as guilty doing this."

She then held the suitcase in plain sight while she walked to the door. "See you later."

"Whoa!" Brock exclaimed, closing the door as she tried to open it. "Just so we're clear, I'm perfectly fine without you, but…you don't want to come back? At all?"

Shaking her head, Reba couldn't help but smile at his shock. She supposed that the real Barbara Jean might not have been this strong, but this was just too good to pass up. "Nope. I will be staying at Reba's. I'll pick Henry up from school this week if you want though."

"This _week_…I-I mean, yeah, that'll be fine," Brock sputtered, moving away from the door when she reached for the handle again.

"Great," Reba replied, flashing him a sweet smile that made him cringe. "See you in a few days."

Reba closed the door behind her, a spring in her step as she walked back to her house.

* * *

Turning off the ignition of Reba's station wagon, Barbara Jean gazed at the huge condominium building with a sense of dread. She was dressed in one of Reba's best work suits, and a briefcase with client information rested against her legs. It was ten minutes before the appointment with the Millers, and her stomach was doing more cartwheels per second than any high school cheerleader could hope to achieve. There was no possible way this could go well. It just wasn't in her to lie. Over and over, Reba had assured her that she wasn't lying, just "accentuating the positives." That shouldn't be too hard, since Barbara Jean was a positive person, but the "accentuating the positives" sounded a lot like lying by omission.

Not to mention that she was a bundle of nerves after Reba told her what happened with Brock. How could he have been such a jerk? Did he really think that she wasn't strong, that she wouldn't have lasted one night on her own? Did he have any respect for her at all?

Her hands still on the steering wheel, Barbara Jean sighed. "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can," Reba argued, not bothering to hide the frustration she felt at having to reassure Barbara Jean so many times.

At first, Reba thought they'd be able to pull it off if she just told Barbara Jean everything that needed to be said. Then, after a few unsuccessful rehearsals, Reba decided that they had a better shot if she went along as Barbara Jean's "assistant."

"This is going to be so awkward," Reba muttered, leaning against her window. "I'm going to look like an idiot."

Barbara Jean raised an eyebrow. "Hey!"

"Well, it's true!" Reba argued. "You don't know what you're doing, which makes _me_ look like I don't know what I'm doing."

Shrugging, Barbara Jean said, "What can we do? It's not like you can talk _for_ me unless you were a really good ventriloquist…are you? Wait, why are you smiling like that?"

"How well can you fake a cough?" Reba wondered aloud, staring at Barbara Jean with a critical eye.

Barbara Jean wrinkled her brow, trying to figure out where Reba was going with this. :"I thought you couldn't cancel on these people again."

"No, not _cancel_, exactly…" Reba explained. "But if there was some legitimate reason why you couldn't talk, I'd _have_ to speak for you. We can say that you have a sore throat."

Considering the plan, Barbara Jean asked, "Then wouldn't they worry about getting sick themselves? What if they're real phobic when it comes to germs?"

"Good point," Reba admitted. After a second, she snapped her fingers. "I got it. We'll say you had your tonsils out recently, and that your voice is still somewhat raspy. It's perfect."

Though she was happy she wouldn't have to do this herself, Barbara Jean couldn't help but wonder about something. "If that's the case, wouldn't they wonder why _I_ didn't just send _my_ assistant to give the tour herself?"

"That's one thing we don't have to worry about with these people," Reba said. "I've gotten real close with these people over the past few months. They'll expect _me_ to be there, and if I send someone else it will look like I'm ditching them with a lame excuse. In fact, this could work in my favor since it will show how much I value them as a client."

Barbara Jean stared at Reba in awe. "Wow, that's good thinking. So now all I gotta do is smile and nod, right?"

Shaking her head, Reba argued, "No. That will still make me look stupid. Start out with what I told you, but with your voice raspy. Then after a minute or so…or when you can't think of what to say next, whichever comes first…start choking. I'll say something like 'what's she's trying to say is…' and go from there. Got it?"

"Yeah," Barbara Jean agreed. But she was still nervous. She knew she would forget something or give away their plan.

Reba let out a long sigh. "Barbara Jean, I don't get you. You predict the weather for thousands of people every day."

"But that's different!" Barbara Jean argued. "I don't see the guy sitting in his underwear saying to his wife, 'That weathergirl is an idiot.' It's all in front of a camera lens, and it's _weather_. What's there to remember, the high temp for the day? And you don't have to lie either, or worry about lying. If your prediction doesn't work out…well, that's weather."

Putting a hand on one of Barbara Jean's, Reba replied, "It's going to be okay. Don't think of it as a big deal. The trick is that when things are important, you have to tell yourself to believe they're not. Okay, so what's the worst that can happen? I don't sell this house? I'll still make the mortgage, I'll just have to sell some extra houses next month. See? No big deal."

That advice _did_ make Barbara Jean feel somewhat better. Squeezing Reba's hand and letting go, she opened the car door. "Let's get this over with…"

"Barbara Jean!" Reba called, pointing to the object that still lay on the floor. "Your briefcase?"

Barbara Jean's face turned red. "Right. Thanks."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Reba and Barbara Jean walked through the condo's front doorway. Swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, Reba had to keep reminding herself to calm down. They'd gone over the plan several times on their way up the stairs. Barbara Jean knew it by heart, thank the Lord. Now she just had to pray that the millers focused more on the condo than how different their realtor was acting.

"Well, this is it…" Reba said, gulping. Barbara Jean stood next to her, looking awkward, with a nervous frown on her face and a hand on her surely queasy stomach. "Stop that, will you? At least give the _appearance_ that everything is normal. Stand up straight, put your arm down, and smile like your life depended on it."

"You're making me more nervous!" Barbara Jean wailed. But after a glare from Reba, she did as she was told.

_And here they are,_ Reba thought as the doorknob turned. In stepped Mr. and Mrs. Miller, two lawyers from New York thinking of relocating to their hometown of Houston. Mrs. Miller was a thin, dark-haired woman, wearing a long skirt and blouse. Her husband was not as thin, wearing dress pants and a polo shirt. Both were in at least their late forties.

"Hello, Reba," Mr. Miller greeted, holding out his hand for who he thought was Reba to shake. "I'm glad you found us another home so quickly."

Once they were done shaking hand, Mrs. Miller held out hers. "Yes, we've been anxious to get here. We've sold our old condo already."

Silence. Barbara Jean stood there as if frozen, her mouth hanging open, not quite able to get words out. _Oh Lord_, Reba thought, hot embarrassment flooding her face. It was one thing watching Barbara Jean make an idiot out of herself in her own body. Now, as Reba watched her own body go through total meltdown, it was almost too much to bear.

"Well, I'm sure you'll love this one!" Reba blurted, stepping in front of stuttering Barbara Jean and vigorously shaking Mrs. Miller's hand.

Sharing a confused look with her husband, Mrs. Miller quickly ended the shake, keeping her hand at her side. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met, Mrs.…"

"Ha…" Reba stopped herself, realizing she would have to do a lot of explaining if she had the same last name as her "boss." "_Harper_, Mrs. Harper, but you can call me...Barbara Jean. I'm…Reba's assistant."

Mr. Miller looked at Reba, rubbing his chin with his hand. "Don't I know you from somewhere…"

_Crap. He must watch Barbara Jean on her weather segment. _"No, I don't believe so," Reba said quickly. "So…"

"So now that you've met my assistant, let's begin the tour, shall we?" Barbara Jean exclaimed suddenly, recovering fast from her momentary "stage fright." "Now, here we have the living room, notice how spacious it is? I've seen many other condo living rooms, but this one just blew me away."

"It is big," Mr. Miller acknowledged, looking at the moldings.

While the couple glanced around, Reba dug her fingernails into Barbara Jean's arm so hard that the former blonde jumped. "I-If you'll just excuse me for a minute, I need to talk to my assistant," she managed to call before she and Reba went off to a private corner.

Reba glared at her, digging into her arm just a little harder. "What the heck was that? You do not abort the plan without telling the plan maker!"

"I'm sorry!" Barbara Jean wailed, as quietly as she could. "It just…came out! I panicked!"

Releasing Barbara Jean's arm, Reba muttered, "Well, this is just great. What the heck are we going to do now?"

"Get me a band-aid? I think you broke skin!" Barbara Jean whined, rubbing the "injury."

Reba narrowed her eyes. "Quit whining. We've got to do some damage control here…"

"I think we're ready to see the rest," Mr. Miller interrupted, tentatively approaching them. "I hope we're not interrupting your little…meeting."

Blushing, Reba assured him, "Oh, no, Reba was just…reminding me to watch my habit of taking over a house showing. She's so tactful and sweet." Barbara Jean could barely conceal a chuckle at that. Reba had to keep herself from elbowing the other woman in the stomach.

"Before we move on, let me point out the outstanding qualities of the room you may have missed…" Barbara Jean began walking around the room, the couple following her.

Reba put her head in her hands. _This ought to be good._ Letting out a shaky breath, she went over to Barbara Jean's side.

Walking backwards, Barbara Jean gestured upwards. "Those are crown moldings up there, as Mr. M…"

"Carl. Carl and Candace," Reba whispered under her breath to Barbara Jean, already seeing the whole deal going down the tubes…

"I mean, as _Carl_ already noticed," Barbara Jean continued. "But notice what's under the moldings – that is a great, sturdy window seat, perfect for guests, and if you open it you'll see a storage bin. This is genuine hardwood floors, and the space is separated by a lovely kitchen bar. Why don't we move into the kitchen now…'

Reba stayed behind, gaping at Barbara Jean in pure shock. _What the…how…_ She shrugged, following the small group into the kitchen. Who was she to complain?

* * *

Taking out his keys, Jake let himself into his house. After a long day at school – and Mondays were always the longest – he was looking forward to crashing on the couch and watching television after doing his homework.

Jake hesitated, wondering if he should go hang out at a friend's house instead. He'd stayed after school for a club meeting, so his mother should be home by now. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to see her. Ever since Saturday she had been acting very…strange. He didn't know how to describe it, but his mother just seemed more…bubbly and fun. _So_ not like his mother. At first it was cool, but now it was just annoying. He wanted the mother he knew back, and the mother he knew did not act flaky or thrilled when Barbara Jean was around…

Come to think of it, Barbara Jean had been acting weird too…well, weirder than usual. Instead of her airhead-like behavior, she'd been down-to-earth and responsible. _It's almost like she and my mom switched personalities,_ Jake mused, chuckling at the thought.

With a sigh he decided that he wasn't in the mood to go to a friend's house and stepped into the living room. Cheyenne, Van, Elizabeth, and Little Brock were in the living room. "Hey everybody," he greeted, then went to go upstairs. His sister and her family over his house was not an uncommon occurrence.

"Jake, wait!" Cheyenne called. "We came here to see you!"

Jake paused, not quite used to _that_. "Ok then. What's up?"

"Here's the deal," Van began. "I just found out from my boss that there's some important dinner tonight, and Cheyenne's invited. We've been asking Mrs. H, Mr. H and Barbara Jean to baby-sit a lot lately, so we were wondering…you want the job?"

"Baby-sitting's for girls," Jake scoffed, starting to head up the stairs again.

Cheyenne grabbed his arm before he could go further. "We're willing to pay you ten bucks an hour."

_Whoa_, Jake thought. Keeping down his excitement, he went back down the stairs and crossed his arms. "I'm listening."

"What the hell's the matter with you, Barbara Jean?"

The three in the living room froze. All were very confused. The person who'd just addressed "Barbara Jean"…sounded a lot like Barbara Jean.

Since the noise was coming from the kitchen, they all went to the dividing wall, hiding behind the conveniently closed shutters.

"I'm sorry, Reba!" The other person exclaimed. Again, the person speaking sounded a lot like the person addressed. "I didn't know what I was doing! You were in the bathroom…they wanted to know when they could see the house again…I panicked!"

The Barbara Jean-sound alike replied, "Didn't you think to check the schedule first? I…you…already have an appointment tomorrow. And _I_ have weather to forecast since _I_ can't take another sick day!"

"First of all, they're not at the same time," the Reba-sound alike defended. "I have five minutes between appointments."

"Like that gives you enough time to drive from one end of Houston to the other!"

Standing there listening, Jake found himself becoming more and more confused. "Should we go in there?"

Cheyenne shrugged. "I don't –"

"What the heck are ya'll doing?"

The three jumped. Barbara Jean had just come out of the kitchen, Reba behind her. Both weren't thrilled to see the three eavesdropping.

"W-wondering what's going on," Van retorted, recovering first. "You two have been acting really weird lately."

Nodding in agreement, Cheyenne added, "And why was Barbara Jean calling Mom Barbara Jean…and vice versa?"

The two looked at each other, as if having a silent conversation. Then they both sighed, and Barbara Jean said, "Fine, we might as well tell you. But…not in front of Elizabeth. Who knows what she might tell Brock."

They all went into the kitchen, the three who still remained clueless growing nervous. Jake, for one, had never seen Barbara Jean act so serious before. And why was his mother just standing there, letting his stepmother do all the talking?

"Okay, perhaps you've noticed…" Barbara Jean began. "That…your mother and I haven't been acting like ourselves…"

"We switched bodies!" Reba, well, Barbara Jean exclaimed, jumping up and down from excitement. "I've been dying to tell someone!"

Who was supposedly Reba glared at who was supposedly Barbara Jean. "I was going to _say that_, thank you very much." Turning to the other three, she explained, "Yes, it's true. _I'm_ Reba, and _that's_ Barbara Jean. Barbara Jean had the great idea of wishing for true love on _the_ star, and Terry thought it would be fun to switch us."

There was silence for a moment. Jake couldn't believe it. While he knew something odd was going on, he didn't realize it was _this_ odd. And while he knew of Terry from the whole Kyra experience, he still wasn't used to the weird situations his mother often found herself in. "Wait…" he said slowly, turning to who he'd thought was Barbara Jean. "_You're_ my mom?"

"And you're Barbara Jean?" Cheyenne asked, looking at who was normally Reba.

Barbara Jean nodded. "Yup! Isn't it cool?"

"'Cool' isn't exactly the word I would use," Reba muttered.

Van burst out laughing. "So…Mrs. H…is in…Barbara Jean's body…:" he breathed. "Terry is the _man_!" He immediately calmed down as both Reba and Barbara Jean glared at him. "And I mean that in the worst possible way."

* * *

_Please let this be a dream._

Reba opened her eyes the next morning. She was staring at her own ceiling, but that didn't mean anything. Since Jake now knew about the switch there was no reason for her to sleep on the couch, as they'd been doing for the past few days.

Also for the past few days, she'd been holding off looking in the mirror every morning, taking the time to pray that her predicament had all been a dream. Much like she'd done when she was stuck in the past with Brock as her husband.

A mirror was hung above the vanity facing her bed. She'd know if she was still in Barbara Jean's body the instant she sat up.

So she sat up.

_Crap._

Barbara Jean's reflection was still in the mirror. That definitely wasn't Reba's long, blonde hair falling in messy curls around her shoulders.

_I've thought it before, and I'll think it again. I'm really going to kill Terry._

Before she could continue that line of thought, however, she felt a movement in her stomach. She swung her legs over the side, pausing a second while she tried to determine if it was from leftovers last night or if she was coming down with a bug. Her stomach didn't give her much time to debate – she made a mad dash for the master bathroom, holding her hand in front of her mouth.

Moments later she was puking into the toilet bowl. While she held her hair back with one hand, she tried to think as she used the other to wipe her mouth with toilet paper between heaves.

_What's wrong with me…or rather, Barbara Jean?_

Reba tried to analyze any symptoms she'd been having lately. Come to think of it, her emotions had been a little out of whack. At first she'd thought it was because of the whole crazy situation she was in. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized there was more to it. She'd been extra snippy with Barbara Jean for the past two days.

Then there was the queasiness. She'd been feeling it ever since she'd gotten in Barbara Jean's body. Yesterday she nearly threw up, but after five minutes of standing over the toilet concluded that it was a false alarm.

_Let's see here…queasiness…moodiness…_

_Oh Lord._

Reba gasped, her eyes widening.

_Barbara Jean is pregnant._

It started to make perfect sense. When Reba had gone to the future, the girl standing next to Henry could have easily been born at this time. And Reba had had three kids in her lifetime – she _knew_ what morning sickness felt like.

This was definitely it.

_How am I going to tell Barbara Jean?_ Reba thought. Her illness had subsided for the moment, so she put the toilet seat cover down and sat on it. _This isn't fair. No one should have to tell a pregnant woman she was pregnant! This is just…ridiculous!_ Well, one thing was for certain – there was no way _she_ was going to be the one to tell Brock.

_Oh Lord. Brock._

How was Brock going to deal with this? How would this affect his and Barbara Jean's relationship? The two were at each other's throats, on the verge of divorce. A baby would not be well-received news. Then again, this could end up renewing their relationship. Or not. Brock wouldn't be happy about this – he already has four kids. But Barbara Jean would be delighted, since she only has one. The resulting fight might be enough for them to break it off for good.

_This isn't fair,_ Reba thought again. _I should not be he one who has to deal with this!_ But yet, she had to. And now she had a very important decision to make – whether or not to tell Barbara Jean about this.

Her initial response was that of course she had to tell Barbara Jean; the woman had every right to know that her body was pregnant. But the more Reba considered it, the more she understood that she had to keep it a secret. First of all, realizing that one is pregnant is an important moment for any woman. She couldn't take that away from Barbara Jean. And second, Barbara Jean was an emotional mess right then, even without the added hormones, because of her fight with Brock. This might just be enough to push her over the edge. Third…they both had enough to deal with.

Her decision firm in her mind, Reba got off the toilet seat and flushed it, her morning sickness gone. As she brushed her teeth, she groaned as she realized something.

She wouldn't be able to have alcohol, at a time when she needed it most.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Good morning, sleepy head!" Barbara Jean chirped as Reba came into the kitchen. She'd already been up for a half hour, and was now dressed for a day of working in an office. Setting a cup of coffee down on the island, she went back to her breakfast when Reba sat across from her.

Reba glared at her. "What are you so happy about?"

"I don't know," Barbara Jean said, shrugging. "I've been feeling a little queasy lately, and I've just noticed that that I seem to be in perfect health lately. Gives me energy, I suppose…come to think of it, now you don't look so good…"

"Maybe because we're in each other's bodies?" Reba snapped, picking up the coffee. Then for some reason, she froze with the cup in mid-air, as if rethinking the action. Then she put the cup down and went to the fridge. "Do we have any seltzer?"

Not sure what just happened, Barbara Jean wrinkled her brow and sniffed the coffee. It seemed fine. "Reba, why did you just put down the coffee? I thought you couldn't live without caffeine in the morning."

"Well, normally, but…" Reba trailed off. "I, um…figured I shouldn't, since…my…your stomach and all, you know?"

Barbara Jean sighed, then dumped the coffee down the kitchen sink. "Okay then. Are you alright, though? Do you think you're sick? I sort of…heard you tossing your cookies when I walked passed your room."

Groaning, Reba drank some of the seltzer she'd poured. "Oh, no, probably some twenty-four hour bug you caught. Just my luck that I'm the one who gets to enjoy it."

"If it's any consolation, your body's no picnic either. My five-mile run this morning turned into a three-mile jog. You really should exercise more," Barbara Jean said, eating some of the scrambled eggs she'd made.

Reba sat at the island, glancing at her own body, and then Barbara Jean's. "Maybe you have a point there. As soon as I'm…better, I'm going to start walking every day."

"I'll hold you to that," Barbara Jean replied, raising an eyebrow. Reba still seemed…off to her. Reba was stuttering often, her face was pale – though that could've been from throwing up – and once in a while Barbara Jean caught her putting a hand on her stomach. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Reba grumbled, downing more of the seltzer.

_Whatever_, Barbara Jean thought. It was probably just the combination of the early hour and barfing that had Reba so out-of-sorts. "Is Jake up yet?"

"He's ready. I checked on him before I came down," Reba answered, then laughed. "He forgot about the switch and thought I was you, so he tried to pull the old 'saying I'm awake when it really means I'm halfway to dreamland' bit. Boy, did _he_ wake up fast when I reminded him who I was."

Barbara Jean chuckled. "I'm really jealous of what you have with the kids, Reba. They all respect you so much. They just see me as a friend."

"Well, I _am_ their mother," Reba pointed out.

Shrugging, Barbara Jean went over to the stove. "True. I guess I'll start making Jake breakfast since I have some time before I need to get to the office. You think he'll like bacon?" Barbara Jean took a few pieces of raw bacon, that had been out since she'd had some with her breakfast, and put them on the frying pan she'd use to scramble her eggs in.

A crash sounded. Reba had thrown her empty glass into the sink in her haste to run out of the room with her hand on her mouth.

_Poor thing,_ Barbara Jean thought. _I ought to put some tea in a thermos so she can have it on the way to the station._ She put water in a kettle, and after she'd set it to boil on the stove the phone rang. Snatching the phone off the receiver, she said, "Hello?"

"_Hey Reba."_

"Who's this?"

"_Um…Adam…your boyfriend?"_

"Oh! _Oh_…" Barbara Jean said, panic rising in her chest. What was she supposed to say? It'd occurred to her somewhere during the weekend that the reason Reba had been tense around Adam, was because she'd been considering telling him about Terry. So Barbara Jean couldn't very well say that the real Reba was upstairs and unavailable to talk right then. "Look, Adam, now isn't the best time. I'm…in the middle of making breakfast…"

"_I know you're busy, but I haven't seen you in a few days. Do you want to go to lunch today?"_

"Uh…today?"

"_That's typically what 'today' means. I was thinking we could check out that nice diner near your office."_

"Um…I-I…don't know if I can make it today, I-I'm swamped at the office…"

"_Are you okay, Reba? You don't sound like yourself."_

_You have no idea,_ Barbara Jean thought. "Yeah, fine. But another day would be really great. Maybe next week?" Hopefully she and Reba would be switched back by then.

"_Next week! I can't wait that long to see you. If you don't agree to lunch today, I'm stopping by later."_

Barbara Jean paused at that. _There's a better idea._ Having a date at home, where other people are constantly walking in and out, would be much less awkward than a formal date.

And the original wish had been for true love, right? There was no way Barbara Jean could bring that about for Reba unless she actually talked with the potential true love. Maybe _she_ was supposed to tell Adam Reba's secret.

"Actually, Adam, it would be _great_ if you could come over tonight. I'll make you dinner."

"_You, make dinner? Are you sure you're okay?"_

Barbara Jean chuckled. At the very least she'd score a few points for Reba in the culinary department. "Yup. See you tonight."

* * *

Her hand trembling, Reba tried to sip the tea Barbara Jean had put in a thermos for her. She was at the station, sitting in a metal folding chair while she went over her script for the first forecast on her shift. The hour-long news program Barbara Jean forecasted for went on three times a day – eight 'o clock in the morning, six 'o clock in the evening, and then at ten 'o clock. Barbara Jean was only the weather girl for the first two, which meant that Reba would have to come back then as well. The good part was that Reba had from nine to six to regroup her nerves. 

The bad part was that she was _here_. True, when Barbara Jean did a fantastic job at the open house, Reba had resolved to predict the weather. But then she'd felt queasy yesterday (this was the day before she realized "she" was pregnant) and had reasoned herself out of going to work. It hadn't taken much, considering she was petrified to go in front of the camera. Today, she didn't have a choice. Barbara Jean assured her it was no big deal. Each segment was only about five minutes.

But then she remembered from her speaking class in college just how _long_ five minutes was.

Her hand jerked, and tea spilled all over her outfit.

"_Crap_."

"Oh, Barbara Jean! Let me help you with that!"

Looking up, Reba spotted Barbara Jean's former pupil Kelly running towards her. Kelly had been a wannabe weather girl at first, learning everything she needed to know about the business from Barbara Jean. Of course, a year later she was an actual weather girl…on the weekends. Barbara Jean had been terrified that Kelly was trying to steal her job, but Kelly claimed she was going to another station. But after a while, Kelly liked it at the station, and agreed to predict the weather only on weekends. During the week, Kelly was a general assistant, doing whatever errands the reporters needed to be done.

"Thanks," Reba said as the girl began wiping the spill with napkins. As Kelly turned to her and smiled, Reba paused, her hand on her hip. "Has anyone told you that you look a lot like Kelly Clarkson?"

Chuckling, Kelly finished cleaning and threw the napkins in the nearby trash. "You know, everyone asks that, but I just don't see it."

"Okay then," Reba said with an amused grin.

Kelly took the soaking thermos from Reba's hand. "Let me get this for you while you go change. You better hurry – you're on in five minutes."

"Thank you. See you after my segment," Reba replied. Minutes later she was stepping out of the wardrobe department in an all-new yet still incredibly uncomfortable outfit. The heels were killing her feet, and her stomach was pressing against her dress suit.

The forecast she'd been reading was still dry, so she spent her final few seconds reading it over. There would be a teleprompter of course, since the weather could change during the segment. These were just guidelines to giver her an idea of what she would be saying…and what hand gestures she would have to make.

_I'm going to look like an idiot_, Reba thought, not for the first time that morning.

Before long people were guiding her towards the giant green screen. She was also leery of using _that_. She just knew she would point to something that would be on the total opposite side of the screen.

Standing in front of the camera, Reba almost fainted when someone called, "You're on, Barbara Jean, in five, four, three, two…"

"Um, hello, I'm Sunny Clearweather…" Reba began. Then her eyes widened in horror when she felt a nervous rumble in her stomach. The smell of hot meat was coming from somewhere, probably from somebody's breakfast.

_Crap._

* * *

"Thanks, Mrs. Gaskin," Jake breathed, holding a tissue to his nose. He was in the nurse's office of his middle school, sitting on a cot that was across from the nurse's desk. Blood was pouring out of his nose. But the humiliation hurt worse than the injury. How was he going to live down smacking himself in the face with his locker door? 

Shaking her head, the elderly nurse handed Jake some more tissues. "This is the second time this week, Hart. Maybe you should cover your locker in some kind of protective cushioning."

"I'll consider that," Jake muttered. It wasn't his fault the stupid door was broken.

While Mrs. Gaskin did some paper work, Jake watched the small television that sat on top of a filing cabinet. The news was on, and Jake recognized it as the show his stepmother forecasted the weather for. It occurred to him that today, his mother would be the one on state-wide television. And he saw how queasy his mother was that morning.

_Well, this should be interesting._

Jake readied himself for more embarrassment as the anchorman said, "_And now, the morning weather, from Texas' favorite weathergirl Sunny Clearweather!_"

"_Um, hello, I'm Sunny Clearweather…" Reba began, staring into the camera like a deer caught in the headlights. "T-today t-the high temperature will be in the high fifties, with a cold wind coming in from the northeast…"_

Lowering his eyes, Jake groaned. His mother had pointed to the northwest on the map.

"_I mean, _that_ northeast," Reba said, as someone off camera must've told her the mistake. "There should be clear skies for the rest of the day, but expect a few rainstorms to be coming in from the west…" Realizing she was pointing to the wrong side again, she changed her hand position. "…_that_ west…oh, boy…"_

Jake was a little concerned for his mother. She looked like she was gonna hurl.

"Isn't that peculiar?" Mrs. Gaskin said as she watched the television. "I watch her everyday, and I've never seen her this uncomfortable. In fact, the poor dear looks as if she may throw up. And being a nurse, so I know when someone is going to throw up."

"She's my stepmother. She wasn't feeling well this morning," Jake explained.

Her eyes widening, Mrs. Gaskin exclaimed, "She's your stepmother? You must be so embarrassed."

"I am, thanks," Jake retorted. He was saved from further conversation when his cell phone rang. Holding his nose with one hand, he said, "Hello?"

"_Hey, it's Kyra. What is up with Barbara Jean? And why do you sound so nasally?"_

"I'm in the nurse's office with a bloody nose."

"_That darn locker door. You really shouldn't let it kick you around like that."_

"Shut up. Why are you calling about Barbara Jean?"

"_We're in Texas and I'm watching Barbara Jean's weather segment. She's making herself look like an idiot…more so than usual."_

"Um…" Jake trailed off, realizing he couldn't explain with the nurse right there. There was a private bathroom, though. As he made his way towards it, he replied, "Well, she wasn't feeling so good this morning…"

"_How do you know that?"_

"She's been staying at our house since she and Dad had a fight."

"_Crap, again? I thought they were okay. But anyway, that still doesn't explain what's going on with her segment. She's acting…weird. Like if you took Mom and stuck _her_ in front of a camera."_

"Funny you should say that," Jake whispered, then raised his voice to a normal level and locked the floor behind him in the bathroom. "Okay, I'm alone in the bathroom, so now I can talk."

"_Why would you need…oh God, what did Terry do?"_

"Mom and Barbara Jean switched bodies!" Jake answered. "Barbara Jean made a wish on the star that each of them would have true love and…well, that happened."

"_Oh my God! That's…that's hilarious!" Kyra exclaimed, as loud chuckles sounded through the phone. "I love Terry!"_

"Yeah, well don't say that when you talk to Mom. She's not too happy right now," Jake said, wondering how the rest of his mother's segment had gone.

"_I can imagine. She looks like she's gonna barf. Actually…she kind of looks like she's pregnant. Is she?"_

Jake paused, considering the possibility. "I don't know. I'll have to ask Barbara Jean."

"_Maybe Barbara Jean doesn't even know. She's not in her own body, right?"_

"Look, it's probably just a twenty-four hour bug, but I'll ask Mom if you want."

"_Well, I can call Mom later. I _thought_ she sounded weird when I talked to 'her' last. Okay, Jake, I gotta go – we're stopping for breakfast."_

"Hey, are you visiting soon?" Jake asked, hope in his voice. As much as his sister terrorized him, he'd been missing her in the months she'd been on tour. "You know, since you're in Texas anyway."

"_I don't know Jake, we're nowhere near Houston…but I'll talk to the guys and see if they would mind an extra stop. Talk to you later, and tell Mom she does a sucky imitation of Barbara Jean." _

"Will do," Jake laughed as he hung up the phone.

* * *

A/N: Kelly is not an original character. In the season six episode, "As We Forgive Those...," Kelly (played by guest star Kelly Clarkson) is a goofy weather girl wannabe who is learning from Barbara Jean. And "Sunny Clearweather" isn't made up either...I'm pretty sure that's the actual name from the show (it's either Sunny or Stormy. Whatever, lol). 


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Honestly, I haven't been working on this chapter - I've been hooked on writing my new "Touched By An Angel" story so much that I put everything else to the side. Then I got a weird, random urge to write some of this story. Well, enjoy! And thanks for all the reviews so far!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Reba looked at the bottle of red wine in the ice bucket with longing in her eyes. She _wanted_ that liquor. She _needed_ that liquor. After the nightmare of a day she had, she never wanted to be sober again.

But she couldn't touch it because of her "condition." Dang Barbara Jean being pregnant. Surely it couldn't hurt to have just _one_ glass….No, if she had one glass, she wouldn't be able to stop at that.

"Barbara Jean, can you put that somewhere else, please?" Reba begged, pointing to the bottle.

In the process of chopping up vegetables, Barbara Jean paused to give her a confused glance. "Why?"

"B-because…" Reba trailed off, coming up with an excuse. "Because my, ah, stomach is still queasy, and alcohol might…make it worse. But I can't stand to look at it after the day I've had."

Barbara Jean paused, as if considering Reba's story, then shrugged and put the wine back in the fridge. "It wasn't _that_ bad, Reba. Especially for your first time. You'll get the hang of it."

"I don't _want_ to get the hang of it! I want my body back!" Reba whined, putting her head down on the kitchen island. "If Terry wasn't already dead, I'd kill him. I've said it before, but it's worth saying again." Noting that Barbara Jean tensed, Reba decided to nix all thoughts of Terry bashing. After all, Barbara Jean was still getting used to the idea that Reba was on personal terms with an angel. "Sorry," Reba muttered.

Relaxing a little, Barbara Jean went back to chopping. She was making dinner in Reba's kitchen, since Adam would be there soon. "No, don't apologize. I think it's cool that you know an angel…weird, but cool."

"I don't know about that," Reba sighed.

After she dumped the vegetables in a frying pan, Barbara Jean hesitated. Then she turned to face Reba and said, "Look, I know this is something between you and Adam, but…do you want me to tell Adam about Terry for you? Maybe that's why I'm in your body in the first place."

"No," Reba replied quickly. "It's going to be hard enough convincing him I'm not nuts when I'm in my _own_ body. And with Terry 'on vacation,' getting Adam to believe you would be near impossible."

Barbara Jean nodded after a moment. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I suppose tonight will just be a…regular date then…"

Looking up at her, Reba could tell that Barbara Jean was nervous about tonight. Barbara Jean's hands were shaking, and she'd gulped nervously when she'd mentioned the date. "Barbara Jean, don't worry. Even if you do act a little weird, well, it's not like he's going to guess that it's really you. Just…try to be me as much as possible. Lord knows you do it enough when you're not even in my body."

They chatted for a few more minutes while Barbara Jean finished making dinner, and before long the doorbell rang. Barbara Jean was already dressed for the date, so all Reba had to do was get out of there and hope for the best.

"Hey Reba," Adam greeted when Barbara Jean opened the front door, Reba behind her. Then Adam kissed who he thought was his girlfriend.

Reba swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to scream, _Get off of her! I'm over here!_ But unless she wanted to take a trip to a therapist's office, she had to keep her mouth shut.

Finally Adam stopped kissing Barbara Jean and smiled at Reba. "Hey Barbara Jean. What are you doing here?"

"Just leaving," Reba assured him. The last thing she wanted to do was watch them act like boyfriend and girlfriend. "Have a good night…" As she passed Barbara Jean, she muttered, "But not _too_ good, got it?"

When Barbara Jean gave her a reassuring smile, Reba said good-bye and left them to their date. Standing on the front porch, Reba made the split decision to stay at Cheyenne and Van's house for the duration of the dinner. Maybe they would be able to keep her from driving herself crazy.

* * *

Holding baby Brock in his arms, Jake rocked him back and forth, trying to get him to go to sleep. The thirteen-year-old was baby-sitting for the night while Cheyenne and Van went out to dinner. Apparently Van had been working constantly, so since he didn't have an open house that night, he and Cheyenne decided to go on a date. Luckily for them Jake didn't have too much homework to do that night. Well, not enough to make him turn down ten bucks an hour.

"Please, go to sleep…" Jake begged, wishing he had some earplugs. Brock Jr. had started crying almost as soon as his parents left, and it was driving Jake insane.

Elizabeth sat next to them on her living room couch. She'd been watching a kids' show, but paused to look at him with sympathy. "Are you okay, Uncle Jake? You look like you're going to cry."

"I'm fine," Jake snapped, quickly wiping a tear from his eye. He _hated_ it when babies wouldn't stop crying. Maybe it stemmed from when he was little, and would hear baby Elizabeth crying all hours of the night.

Shrugging, Elizabeth suggested, "Does he need a new diaper? Mommy always checks that first."

"Uh, well…I'm going to," Jake replied, grimacing. Honestly, he thought he felt some wetness through Brock Jr.'s pants, but…Jake wasn't about to look. That was just so gross. "Do you really think it's what's making him cry, though? He probably just wants to sleep, right?"

Elizabeth stared at him as if he were mentally challenged. "He can't _get_ to sleep unless you change his diaper."

"Right," Jake muttered. No doubt he would have to do it sometime during the night. Might as well get it over with…

Then there was a knock at the door. Remembering Cheyenne and Van's warnings not to let strangers in, Jake got up, with the baby still in his arms, and looked out the window. It was Barbara Jean. "It's Barbara Jean," he called to Elizabeth, then opened the door.

"Jake? Where are Van and Cheyenne?" Barbara Jean asked, looking around.

Jake wrinkled his brow in concentration, remembering that there was something different about Barbara Jean now…oh, right. He was so distracted by the baby he momentarily forgot that this was his mother, not Barbara Jean. Which still kind of freaked him out. And Elizabeth didn't know about the switch either. "Went out to dinner when I came over. Don't get all mad though, because they're paying me ten bucks an hour."

"Really? That's a nice deal. I'd wish they paid _me_ that all the nights I baby-sat," Reba laughed. Then she turned to Elizabeth. "Hello, Elizabeth. What are you still doing in your clothes? Aren't you supposed to be in your pajamas already?"

Looking at Reba with curiosity, Elizabeth answered, "Hi, Grandma Barbara Jean. Mommy and Daddy said I could wait for another half hour since Uncle Jake was baby-sitting. Are you…okay?"

"Yes, of course. What do you mean?" Reba asked, confused.

Elizabeth tilted her head. "I dunno. You just don't seem like…you."

Surprised, Jake traded looks with his equally stunned mother. He'd been told how Elizabeth knew who "Nell" was since the beginning, so in a way this shouldn't have been too shocking. Yet it was becoming clear that Elizabeth must have something of a sixth sense, and that was unnerving in itself. "Well who else would she be?" Jake managed to retort. Changing the subject, he asked, "Hey, _Barbara Jean_, can you help me? I think Brock Jr. needs his diaper changed."

"Sure. Come on Elizabeth, why don't you get changed now since we're going upstairs anyway?" Reba suggested. Reluctantly, Elizabeth turned off the television and followed them upstairs.

While Elizabeth was getting ready for bed, Jake took Brock Jr. into the nursery, where a changing station was set up. "Okay, Mom, go ahead."

"Oh, no you don't," Reba chuckled, handing her son a clean diaper. "If you plan on baby-sitting again, you've got to learn how to do this."

Groaning, Jake placed Brock Jr. down on the cushioned surface. Not sure what he was doing, he pulled at the tab on the side of the diaper, and…

"Gross!" Jake yelled, confronted with a load of baby droppings. "Mom, you can't make me do this!"

"Ten bucks an hour…" Reba sang, holding out the baby wipes.

Jake snatched the box from her hand and muttered, "Dang, what I'd do for money…"

"It's not that bad," Reba reassured him. "Just fold the dirty diaper over and throw it in that pale over there. Then, well…_wipe_…and powder…"

"Oh, gross, gross, gross…" Jake complained, doing as he was told.

Reba laughed. "Quit whining. Do you know how many of _your_ diapers I had to change?"

"But you're my _mom_," Jake retorted, trying to keep his mind off what his hands were doing. "At least, for now you're my mom. This whole body switch thing is freaking me out."

Narrowing her eyes, Reba pointed out, "How do you think _I_ feel? It's like I've been _stretched_…I mean, I've never realized how tall Barbara Jean really is. And my nails are done, my clothes are totally different…and hell, I'm married to your father. Again. I'm finding it strange that for two out of three wishes, I've had to pretend to be married to Brock."

"Yeah, how's that going for you?" Jake asked.

Reba shrugged. "It hasn't. Barbara Jean and Brock were fighting the night before we switched, so I haven't had to deal with him for the most part."

"You know what I don't get?" Jake replied, remembering the original wish Barbara Jean had made. "Barbara Jean wished for true love, right? So why are you now married to Dad? Maybe it's saying that you should really be with him."

Shaking her head, Reba argued, "No. I've already thought about that, considered it…but after my whole ordeal in the past, I've accepted that I'm no longer in love with him And…that I'm in love with Adam."

Jake looked at her. While he did like Adam, he hadn't stopped to think of what it would be like to have another stepparent. "Really? Enough to marry him?"

"I don't know," Reba admitted. "Maybe _that's_ why Barbara Jean and I switched. To give me some time apart from Adam to figure out my feelings. All I know is, it's driving me crazy that they're on a date right now. I miss him."

Raising an eyebrow, Jake asked, "Barbara Jean is on a date with Adam? Are you okay with this?"

"Well, there's not much I can do about it," Reba reminded him, an exasperated frown on her face. "He thinks that Barbara Jean is me. But…I can't help but worry she's going to steal him from me. Sure, I know it's ridiculous, but it's like she's causing one of my men to cheat on me all over again."

"She wouldn't have to do this if you'd just told Adam about Terry before now," Jake reasoned. He hesitated, waiting to see if his mother was going to yell at him for his "I told you so" tone.

But Reba only sighed. "Yeah, I know. And now I have to admit that Lori Ann was right…" She trailed off, her eyes widening. "Oh my Lord. Lori Ann still doesn't know about the switch!"

"Have fun telling her, then," Jake laughed. While he'd been talking to his mother, he managed to finish changing Brock Jr.'s diaper. Holding up the baby as if for inspection, Jake said, "Well?"

Reba nodded. "Not bad for a first timer. Give him a bottle, and he should fall asleep in minutes."

"Thank God," Jake muttered. While he went downstairs with Brock Jr. to get a bottle, Reba went off to check on Elizabeth.

* * *

The next morning, Barbara Jean was once again making breakfast for the family. And again, Reba was tossing her cookies in the bathroom. While at first she thought it was just a twenty-four hour bug, Barbara Jean was beginning to get concerned. Not just for Reba, but for her own body.

She had a feeling why her body was "sick." But she wasn't about to tell Reba…or anyone else. Not just yet.

It had happened about five weeks ago. In an effort to spark some romance between them, Barbara Jean and Brock planned a date night one weekend. Well, they ended up arguing, but the heat had been so intense that they ended up in bed…without protection.

The possibility had been driving her crazy, wondering if she really was pregnant or not. Switching bodies had helped her gain some perspective and sort out her feelings about the situation. Frankly, she didn't care what Brock might want…she was keeping the baby. And who knew, maybe it would do wonders for her and Brock's relationship. Though even she had to admit she was being optimistic in that respect.

Pouring some coffee for herself, Barbara Jean almost let the mug slip from her hand when she gasped.

_Coffee. Yesterday, Reba wouldn't drink coffee. Or wine. _

_She knows._

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Barbara Jean put down the mug with shaking hands. It made sense, as Reba had been pregnant three times before, and would know what it feels like. _But why wouldn't she tell me if she didn't think I knew? Maybe she thinks I already know and don't want to talk about it? Is it just uncomfortable for her?_ Well, whatever the reason, Barbara Jean knew that her best friend would only keep the secret with best intentions at heart. Still, the two would have to have a serious talk later.

She continued with making breakfast just as Brock burst into the kitchen. "Brock!" Barbara Jean exclaimed, almost losing herself for a second. Then she remembered who he thought she was and added, "Y-you know that Barbara Jean is upstairs, right?"

"Good. 'Cause I want to talk to you," Brock said, his face barely concealing anger.

Feeling some nerves start to gather, Barbara Jean asked, "W-why do you want to talk to _me_? This is a problem between _Barbara Jean_ and _you_."

"It was. Until you decided to let Barbara Jean stay. I thought you were against harboring fugitives," Brock spat. He was facing her with his arms folded across his stomach.

Anxiety was replaced by anger in an instant. _A fugitive? Who does he think he is, blaming Reba for the length of our fight?_ "Normally I am, but unlike you, Barbara Jean doesn't have a nice condo to run away to!"

"I sold that condo!" Brock reminded her.

"That's not the point, Brock," Barbara Jean retorted. "You're always the one running away. Now it's her turn, and she can stay as long as she likes."

At this, Brock gave her a bewildered look. "Now there's something I never thought I'd hear you say. What's with you, Reba? Usually you at least hear me out, or talk Barbara Jean down for me."

_Talk Barbara Jean down for me?_ Barbara Jean thought with rising outrage. Just how many of their arguments included Reba without her knowledge? "Well, maybe this time I decided to listen to her side, and that your side doesn't deserve to be listened to!"

"Huh?"

"I _mean_," Barbara Jean continued. "She's told me about what a jerk you've been being. Acting distant, not even trying to get romantic. It sounds like you've just given up. And she's sick of wondering if things are ever going to be right again."

Brock was silent for a moment before replying, "And how do you think I feel? It's been a year, Reba. Who are we kidding?"

"Oh my God…you really have given up…" Barbara Jean whispered, the understanding dawning on her. "W-were you planning on telling her this?"

Shaking his head, Brock answered, "No, not for a while at least. I keep waiting to see if things will somehow get better."

"In other words, you're leading her on," Barbara Jean supplied, anger bubbling up again. "Brock, things aren't going to 'somehow get better.' If you don't talk to her about the feelings you're having, they're going to get worse. You two need to talk and figure out where you want to go from here."

Brock hesitated, letting her words sink in. Then he nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. Living like this isn't working anyway. Do me a favor and tell her to meet me at the office for lunch, will you?"

_Uh oh_, Barbara Jean thought. _He wants to fix things _now_, only…who he thinks is me, really isn't me. This isn't good._ "W-well, she not might want to talk to you now that _you're_ ready."

"Oh, right," Brock said, clearly remembering the fight. "Then...just tell her I really want to talk, please?"

"Okay," Barbara Jean agreed.

That's when Brock sniffed the air, and noticed the pancakes in the frying pan. He stared at her, almost in shock. "You're _cooking_? Are you alright, Reba?"

"Ha, ha," Barbara Jean retorted. "Now get out. I think I hear Barbara Jean coming downstairs."

* * *

A/N: Yeah, about halfway through this chapter I realized that I haven't put Lori Ann in the story since the prologue, heh. Oh well, sorry about that.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"What? This is a joke, right?" Lori Ann said, stunned as she sat on her best friend's living room couch. Reba had called her over earlier that day, and as soon as she walked in the door she was confronted by both the redhead and Barbara Jean. Granted, she didn't despise the other blonde like she used to, but it was still…uncomfortable between them.

However, it turned out the awkwardness was _nothing_ compared to the silence that briefly followed Reba and Barbara Jean's revelation five minutes ago. Lori Ann stared in shock as two people she normally regarded as sane (well, one of them, anyway) explained with serious looks on their faces that they had switched bodies.

Lori Ann's mind flashed back to a few months ago, when she'd had the chance to see eighteen-year-old Reba once again. That, coupled with the discovery of Terry, had been enough to rattle her nerves for a good few weeks afterwards. After all, she never believed in magic, not a bit. The whole situation had been enough to open her mind ten times more than before.

But this…_this_ was ridiculous. Body switching was a cheap plot device used by sitcom writers. Not something that happened in real life.

When neither woman responded, Lori Ann pressed, "You're both kidding. You're going to try and convince me until I give in, then yell 'gotcha' when I do and laugh hysterically. Well, I'm not _going_ to give in, so just stop it."

"Lori Ann, please," Barbara Jean begged. "It's me, Reba. We thought we'd tell you since you've seen Terry before…in his current condition."

Reba gave a short chuckle. "Really, after everything you've seen, you're not going to believe us _now_?"

"This is different! This…this is just weird and could easily be a joke. It was pretty hard to deny that you were tellin' the truth when a dead bartender appeared in golden light," Lori Ann argued, wishing that she _did_ believe them. They both looked so frustrated.

Shaking her head, Barbara Jean muttered, "Of all the times to go on vacation…I swear I'm gonna kill him…or at least hurt him real bad, the mo_ron_…"

Lori Ann raised an eyebrow at that. Funny, the way Barbara Jean said "moron" sounded just like…_No_, Lori Ann thought, putting her head in her hands. _This was _not_ happening…_

"Besides," Reba laughed. "Would Reba _ever_ say she was Barbara Jean?"

"Not unless someone had a gun pointed to her head," Lori Ann replied automatically. Then her eyes widened as she realized the absolute truth of that statement. "Oh…my…God…"

Barbara Jean…or Reba…nodded, putting a comforting hand on Lori Ann's shoulder as she sat next to her. "That's it…take it in…let out a deep, calming breath…"

"I'm going crazy!" Lori Ann wailed, leaning on "Barbara Jean's" shoulder. "Being around you people has pushed me off the deep end!"

"Reba" sat on Lori Ann's other side. "It's not that bad! It's kind of funny, actually…did you see the weather report Reba did? Hilarious! And…"

Glaring at Barbara Jean, Reba snapped, "That's _enough_, Barbara Jean! She gets it!"

"Alright, alright," Barbara Jean replied, grabbing her pocketbook as she walked to the door. "I've got to show that house, so I'll see you later."

Once she was gone, Reba gave Lori Ann a concerned look. "Lori Ann…are you okay?

_Am I okay?_ Lori Ann thought, now sitting up against the couch and staring at "Barbara Jean" in wonder. _Am I okay? I've just been told that I'm supposed to believe _you're_ Reba. And I believe it. How can you expect me to be okay?_ "You've got to be kidding me."

"Look, I know this is hard," Reba sighed. "But you believed me when I told you about Nell, remember?"

Shaking her head, Lori Ann argued, "That was different. She…she looked _exactly_ like you did at that age. Short of being a clone, there was no other explanation. This…this…"

"I know, it's insane. It's like my ultimate punishment for making fun of her so much,' Reba chuckled.

Lori Ann took a second to really study who she'd thought was Barbara Jean. The body, the clothes were all the same. But…the facial expressions, the way she carried herself, was all Reba. "So, explain this to me again. How exactly did you get stuck in Barbara Jean's body?"

"Well…it's a funny story…" Reba began with a nervous laugh. "You know how all these things happen to me because of a wish? Barbara Jean made a wish on the star that both she and I would find our true loves, and next thing I know I'm waking up with blonde hair."

Trying to make sense of that, Lori Ann replied, "What the hell does one thing have to do with the other? Brock is _definitely_ not your true love…and I highly doubt that Adam is Barbara Jean's."

"Yeah, I got that," Reba assured her. "I have to admit, at first I panicked, thinking maybe my feelings for Brock hadn't gone away or he still had feelings for me…but then I saw 'me' with Adam and I knew right away that this wasn't the case. Brock and I aren't true loves now, though maybe we were once. But I don't think that's what this wish is about anyway."

"Then what?" Lori Ann asked. The situation was absurd, but she found her curiosity piqued.

Reba hesitated, as if trying to decide how to answer. "…I'm not sure, but I think it's to give me some space from Adam. You know what a hard time I had with telling him my secret, and though I haven't paid them much attention, other doubts about our relationship. I mean…_ten months_, Lori Ann. Ten months. It's the longest relationship I've had since Brock and I split. We've talked about it before, of course, but…did I really want to marry him? Only I would start thinking about it, but then he'd call or we'd go on a date, and…I'd push these thoughts aside…what are you staring at?"

As if snapping out of a trance, Lori Ann jumped slightly. "I'm sorry, it's just that I still think of you first as Barbara Jean, then you start saying all this serious stuff about you and Adam…it'll take me a while to get used to this."

"Hopefully you won't have to. Terry should be back soon," Reba laughed, then her face paled for a minute and she clutched her stomach.

Lori Ann raised an eyebrow. "Reba…are you alright?"

"Yeah, sure, probably still a little queasy from throwing up this morning," Reba replied without thinking.

Starting at her, Lori Ann's eyes widened. "Oh my God…you're pregnant! I mean, Barbara Jean's pregnant!"

"Yes," Reba admitted, glaring at Lori Ann. "But if you tell anyone, I'll hurt you. Heck, I haven't even told Barbara Jean yet."

:"What? Why not?" Lori Ann exclaimed.

Reba gave a long sigh. "Because...a number of reasons. And I haven't taken the test yet. I guess it's like when you thought you were pregnant in high school – it's comforting to let yourself believe you're innocent for a while until you take the test that might prove you're guilty."

"But still, you've got to do it," Lori Ann insisted.

Shrugging, Reba argued, "I'll let Barbara Jean do it. It is her baby, after all."

"I guess. So I guess you don't want to hang out a bar tonight, huh?" Lori Ann joked, though truth be told she could use a few drinks right then. And then a few more drinks. When Reba just gave her an aggravated look, Lori Ann gave her a weak smile. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

* * *

Wiping her eyes, Reba walked into the kitchen sometime around midnight that night. Her stomach had been queasy and she just couldn't sleep, so she'd decided to come down and make herself some tea.

Her thoughts stayed on her conversation with Lori Ann as she put the kettle on to boil and took a seat at the island to wait. _Why can't this just be over?_ She thought, drumming her fingers on the countertop. _It's not that I don't want to solve my problems. I do. It's just that I think I've done a well enough job that the last thing I need is magical interference. This pregnancy…_possible_ pregnancy_ _…shouldn't be something I have to deal with. It should be something between Barbara Jean and…_

_Oh Lord. What if it's not Brock's?_

The idea had Reba sitting straight on the stool, her eyes wide with panic. It never occurred to her before then that this baby could belong to someone else. Although…it made perfect sense. Barbara Jean and Brock _had_ been having marriage trouble for a long time…

_No, no_, Reba chided herself, shaking her head. _Don't even go there. You do that, and you'll drive yourself nuts…well, more nuts than you already are. Barbara Jean's learned her lesson from when Brock got her pregnant…hasn't she?_

Her head snapped up as she heard a creak sound from the living room. Barbara Jean was getting out of her "bed" on the sofa and walking towards the kitchen. "Hey. Sorry if I woke you up."

"It's alright," Barbara Jean replied, sitting on a stool across from Reba. "I wasn't getting much sleep anyway."

Looking at Barbara Jean with concern, Reba stood up to turn off the stove when the tea kettle whistled. "Want some tea?"

"Yeah, please," Barbara Jean yawned, stretching her arms. "What are you doing down here?"

Pouring them two cups of tea, Reba shrugged. "I don't know, just couldn't sleep…"

"You were throwing up?" Barbara asked, in a tone that made it sound more like a statement than a question.

Reba hesitated, trying to figure out what she meant by that. "Well…not quite, but close."

After a moment's pause, Barbara Jean inquired, "Reba…am I pregnant? Tell me the truth."

"Um…." Reba trailed off, handing Barbara Jean one of the full tea cups, and keeping one in her hand. "I'm not gonna lie, so…yes, you are. At least I'm pretty sure."

"You've been throwing up constantly, and you're still not sure?" Barbara Jean retorted, taking a sip of her tea.

Sighing, Reba explained, "Okay, so I'm ninety-nine point eight percent sure. You'll get your other two percent when you take the test and go to a doctor's appointment."

Raising an eyebrow, Barbara Jean replied, "You haven't taken the test yet?"

"Oh, no, I'll let you have the pleasure of that," Reba joked.

Leaning on the counter, Barbara Jean pleaded, "Come on, Reba! This isn't fair! I gotta know! Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No!"

"Pretty please?"

"No!"

"Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"Oh, alright!" Reba snapped, putting down her tea mug. "But only if you honestly answer one question for me."

Barbara Jean nodded. "Of course!"

"Look, I know I probably shouldn't even be thinking this, but I can't help but wonder…the baby _is_ Brock's, right?" Reba questioned, then became embarrassed for ever asking it when Barbara Jean stared at her. "I'm sorry, I just thought…"

"What, Reba? That I might have gone back to my hussy ways?" Barbara Jean spat.

Looking down at her tea, Reba answered, "Barbara Jean, I promise, if you and Brock's marriage were good the thought would've never entered my mind. But you two have been practically separated for a while now."

"That's just it – _practically_. But we're not separated. I guess I can believe you would think that of me, but the fact that you did…it hurts, Reba," Barbara Jean said, looking at Reba with disappointment on her face.

Guilt building every moment, Reba put her hand on Barbara Jean's. "I know, and I'm sorry. Really I am."

"Alright," Barbara Jean sighed, seemingly placated for the moment. Abandoning her tea, she pulled Reba around the island and towards the door. "Now, come on, let's go take that test."

"_Now_? It's after midnight!" Reba exclaimed, following Barbara Jean up the stairs and into her room.

Closing the door behind them, Barbara Jean insisted, "No time like the present, right?"

"B-but I don't have a pregnancy test!" Reba reminded her.

Smiling, Barbara Jean reached into Reba's nightstand and pulled out a small box. "Yes you do! I put one in here when you first started throwing up, just in case. Now go pee on a stick!"

"This is…really disturbing," Reba muttered, but she snatched the box anyway and started to go into the bathroom, When she realized that Barbara Jean was close behind, she whirled around, warning, "Don't you follow me." And slammed the door in her face.

* * *

Adam pulled up in front of his girlfriend's daughter's house in his used sedan and turned off the ignition. But he made no move to get out of the car.

Instead, he contemplated his decision to ask Reba to marry him.

It hadn't been a spontaneous decision. A few weeks ago, he'd spent the weekend at Reba's just because he couldn't stand the thought of going home. He then thought about what his life would be like if they lived together all the time. The concept stuck with him, overwhelming him almost every waking moment. Sure, they'd talked about it before, but always came off as a joke or a distant "what if." Now, after realizing that he couldn't live without her, he was determined to make that "what if" a reality.

Even at the risk that she would say no.

Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, Adam tried to assure himself that there was no reason she would. She'd said that she loved him, hadn't she? And her whole family liked him. True, it'd been a bumpy road at first. Everyone was still jumpy about what almost happened to Kyra when he first came around. But soon enough he got on everyone's good side.

Well, at first Van and Brock were more than a little overprotective. Adam had to admit the phenomenon had surprised him. What woman had a son-in-law who watched out for her so much? Or even more so, what woman had an _ex-husband_ who watched out for her so much? It was insane, and had taken Adam some time to get used to. But after a while he just took both facts as credit to Reba's outstanding personality and left it at that.

And then…then there was Barbara Jean. Now _that_ situation was insane. The woman had an affair with Reba's husband, essentially ending Reba's marriage, for crying out loud. Yet Reba was best friends with her. _Who _does_ that?_ Adam thought in amazement, not for the first time. In fact, his first thought had been to ask Barbara Jean, as the best friend, to help him pick out an engagement ring. And while he was sure that Barbara Jean would be more than happy to help…he just couldn't do it. It was too awkward.

That line of thinking was what brought him to Cheyenne's house. If he wasn't going to ask the best friend, then the daughter was first runner up. He supposed he should've asked Lori Ann, but…that woman scared the crap out of him.

Letting out a deep breath, Adam walked up to the door and rang the bell. When Cheyenne opened the door, Adam gave her a warm smile. "Hey, Cheyenne. Your mom's not here, right?"

"No, she's at…work," Cheyenne answered, looking at him with curiosity. "You still want to come in?"

"Actually, I was hoping she wasn't here," Adam explained as he walked into the living room.

Closing the door behind them, Cheyenne replied, "Oh, really? Well, have a seat. You want something to drink?"

"No, I'm alright. Where is everybody?" Adam asked. He wasn't stalling, exactly. He just knew that if he didn't ask her at the right moment, it could affect her reaction in a negative way.

Sitting down next to him, Cheyenne replied, "Well, Van's still at work, Elizabeth is playing in her room, and little Brock is sleeping in his crib…"

"How goes the job hunting?" Adam asked, again before she could ask him the purpose of his visit.

Cheyenne shrugged. "It's not. I figure I'm going to go and get my masters in a few months, what's the point? I might as well stay home with the baby until classes start next semester."

"Make sense," Adam agreed. "It's good to be there for them while you can."

"Oh, yeah. How is Joe doing?" Cheyenne asked.

Adam nodded. "Good, he's starting up an internet company in New York with some of his buddies right now." Adam had lived in New York with his son, Joe, until his wife died a few years ago. They'd moved to Houston since Adam's sister lived there. Joe was currently in his late twenties and came to visit his father every few months or so.

"That's great…" she trailed off. Then she narrowed her eyes and effectively ended all small talk. "Okay, why are you here?"

Adam gulped, then decided to let it all out in one breath. "I'm asking your mother to marry me and was wondering if you could please help me pick out an engagement ring. Please don't hate me."

Staring at him, Cheyenne gasped, "Oh my God…are you serious? Do you know how she feels about this?"

"We've talked about it, and I'm pretty sure she'll say yes. I would ask her to move in together first but…we're not young, Cheyenne. And that's one of the same reasons I want to propose to her now," Adam explained.

Cheyenne took it all in for a minute. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you two! I'm so sure Mom will say yes – she's nuts about you!"

"Oh, thank God," Adam breathed, gladly hugging her back. "I was thinking of asking her on Saturday night when we go out."

The happiness faded from Cheyenne's face, replaced with worry. "Um, S-Saturday? So soon? Maybe you should wait a little while…"

"No! Like I said, I want to do this _now_. I'm not getting any younger," Adam argued. "If you don't help me with this, then…I'll muster up my courage and ask Lori Ann."

Though frowning, Cheyenne replied, "Alright, then. We'll go shopping tomorrow…I'll get Barbara Jean to watch the kids."

"You know, Reba has been acting really weird lately, and I'm beginning to think that weirdness is rubbing off on you. Cheyenne, what is going on around here?" Adam asked, frustration in his voice. He'd been getting the feeling that Reba was keeping a secret from him for a while now, and just this past week it seemed like she was uncomfortable in her own skin. "And don't deny it. I _know_ something's been up with her…why won't she tell me?"

At first it looked like she might protest. But then Cheyenne sighed. "Okay, yes, there _is_ something going on, and she's going to tell you. Just…give her some time. She's afraid of what you'll think of her."

'Come on, how bad can it be? Is she a witch?" Adam scoffed. He'd never been one for anything supernatural, but he grew up watching _Bewitched_.

Cheyenne hesitated, giving him a weak smile. "Well, no, but you're close."

"Very funny," Adam chuckled. He became serious instantly when it became clear that she wasn't kidding. Groaning, Adam muttered, "Oh, boy."


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Yeah, I know, I haven't updated in weeks and I'm really sorry about that. I've just had so many other writing projects, this story has been moved to the bottom of my "to-do" list (essays, TV scripts, etc...). I'm planning on adding another TV script to my plate, so I'm just gonna plow through this, otherwise I know I'll abandon it. But don't despair - this is basically the beginning of the end. Two more chapters plus an epilogue, and this story is officially done.

Thanks to all those who reviewed so far!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Pulling up to the front of her house, Barbara Jean saw there was no car in the driveway and stayed in her seat. Henry was going to spend the night with her and Reba, but Brock had picked his son up from school since she'd been busy showing another house. Secretly she had hoped that Henry would just be waiting for her on the front porch, and she wouldn't have had to talk to her husband at all. But now she saw that what she had been avoiding all week was now inevitable.

Barbara Jean sighed as she leaned back on her head rest. Her mind instantly flashed back to last night.

Positive. The test had been positive. She was having a baby.

Correction. She and _Brock_ were having a baby. It didn't matter if Brock wanted his child or not – he was the father and would have to deal with the situation.

But then again. Barbara Jean herself didn't even know how she would deal with this. She and Brock were practically divorced. Whatever happened, she knew that Brock would do his best to stay in Henry's life. But what about this baby? And her pregnancy? Would Brock feel less connected to his youngest child if they separated? Not to mention the trauma this child would go through growing up with parents that divorced at his or her birth.

_What are you doing?_ Barbara Jean chided herself, her eyes widening as she realized what she was thinking. _Just yesterday you accused Brock of giving up. Have you done the same? Do you still love him?_

Without hesitation, Barbara Jean answered "yes" to that last question. She didn't think she'd ever stop loving Brock. The real question was…did Brock still love her? Did he still find her attractive? Or would she wake up one morning to find out that he'd had another affair?

All these doubts had been plaguing her ever since their near-divorce over a year ago. She supposed it wasn't fair to doubt Brock's loyalty, when he'd never given _her_ a reason to mistrust him. But even without that issue, there was still the state of their relationship. It seemed like whenever they reconciled, it went sour soon after. Maybe they just weren't compatible anymore. Maybe they hadn't fallen out of _love_, but out of _like_.

_Then that really sucks_, Barbara Jean thought. What were they supposed to do, call it quits or hope they'd start liking each other again? The idea had crossed her mind that if they still loved each other, they should stick it out for the baby.

Sighing again, Barbara Jean suddenly knew what she had to do. Falling in love with him wasn't the problem. It was being able to stand him again that would give her some trouble.

The _beep_ of a car horn interrupted her thoughts. Brock was pulling into the driveway. Reminding herself that Brock believed that she was Reba, she stepped out of the car. "Hey, Brock," she greeted, then looked down at her son. "Hi, Henry! You ready to go spend the afternoon at my house?"

"Will Mommy be there?" Henry asked hopefully.

_I'm your mommy!_ Barbara Jean thought, but instead smiled and replied, "Well, right now she's at work, but she should be done in a few hours. But Cheyenne's there, and she brought Elizabeth."

"Awesome!" Henry exclaimed, grabbing an overnight bag from the car. "Bye, Dad! See you tomorrow!"

Brock waved as his son got in Reba's car and buckled himself into the car seat. "Thanks for taking him tonight, Reba," he said, looking at Barbara Jean. "Are you sure you can get him to school okay? I know Barbara Jean has to go to work early."

"Brock, every day for years I managed to get three kids up and ready for school in time. He'll be fine," Barbara Jean assured him, suppressing a proud smile. _That sounded rather Reba-ish, if I do say so myself._

Chuckling, Brock replied, "Yeah. Hey, listen…how's Barbara Jean doing? Did you give her my message?"

Barbara Jean resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. "Did you ever think she might respect you more if you stopped using me as your messenger girl?"

"Sorry…" Brock answered, but still gave her an expectant look. "Well?"

Glaring at him, Barbara Jean answered, "Yes, I did. She said….she said…she said that she's sick of waiting for your relationship to get better, and that she'll only come back if you really want to work on your marriage."

"I _am_. I promise, I am. Will you tell her that?" Brock asked, a silent pleading in his eyes.

Barbara Jean groaned. She had a feeling that Brock would forever be using Reba as a middleman in their relationship. "Fine. But she still might not be ready to talk to you yet," Barbara Jean added as an afterthought. That excuse ought to placate Brock until she and Reba switched back.

Accepting the answer, Brock replied, "Thanks, Reba. I'll pick Henry up after work tomorrow See you."

"See you then," Barbara Jean said as she watched her husband walk up the porch steps. Honestly, she was finding herself glad that she was stuck in Reba's body and couldn't talk with Brock right away. This whole switch had helped her get her thoughts together, really distance herself from the relationship and look at it with an objective eye. And it benefited Brock, too. Since he didn't realize who she was, he treated her differently, in a good way. That way she could _stay_ objective without going off on an emotional tangent every time she ran into him.

_You know,_ Barbara Jean thought with a smile, _Maybe Terry had the right idea in the first place. Reba and I were so bewildered by the situation that we couldn't see that maybe he really is just trying to help us._

"Reba! Are you coming?"

Shaking her head, Barbara Jean called back to her son, "Yes, Henry, I'm coming."

"What _took_ you so long? I was getting tired of waiting," Henry replied as she got into the driver's seat of the car.

Barbara Jean chuckled and glanced at him over her shoulder. "What would you have done if I hadn't come, drove off without me?"

"No. My feet can't reach the pedals," Henry grumbled. After a moment, he asked, "Um, Reba? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, anything," Barbara Jean assured him, starting to drive the car down the street.

"Does Daddy hate Mommy?"

At that, Barbara Jean nearly brought the car to an abrupt halt, but steadied herself and kept driving. "No, of course not, sweetie. Your daddy loves your mommy very much. They're just…not getting along right now. Kind of like when you and Elizabeth start fighting and I have to separate you. You still love her, even thought you're fighting, right?"

"Oh, I get it. So Mommy and Daddy are just in time-out."

Barbara Jean had to laugh at that. "I guess you could put it that way."

"When is their time out going to be over?"

_Poor kid,_ Barbara Jean thought, just then realizing how much this has to be affecting her son. For him, one day everything was fine, and then the next, his mother was gone and his father was sending him off to school every morning. She hoped that Brock at least tried to explain the situation to his son, but knowing Brock, he probably didn't get into it as much as she would've. "I-I don't know, sweetheart. They're trying their hardest to work it out, but there's a chance that their…time-out may never be over. But Henry?"

"Yeah?"

"Even if your mommy and daddy eventually don't love each other anymore," Barbara Jean continued, feeling tears threaten to spill. "They will _always_ love you. Just because they get angry at each other, doesn't mean they're angry with you. You understand that, right?"

"Of course. Daddy said that too when Mommy left."

"Good," Barbara Jean sighed, sending a silent "thank you" to her husband as she pulled into the driveway of her temporary home.

* * *

"Those are _my_ chips, Bryce. Hands off!" Kyra snapped, snatching up the bag from her fellow band member's grasp They were still on their tour bus, gathered in the common area. And being around each other all day, every day for more than a month, was starting to get to them. Kyra kept insisting that it was only because they weren't used to touring. However, she was beginning to wonder how much she would have to pay off the driver to "accidentally" release the brake while the other band members were in the bus' path…

Staring at Bryce with mock horror, Cody exclaimed, "Dude, you touched her chips?"

"Yeah, man, what the hell is wrong with you?" Skyler chimed in.

Bryce chuckled. "Sorry, Kyra. What's with you lately? You've been acting all weird since you called your brother."

Hesitating, Kyra replied, "It's nothing. Just the usual nerves about going home again." In truth, though, she'd been worrying constantly about her mother and stepmother's current predicament. It wasn't every day two of your family members switched bodies, especially when one of those bodies happened to be pregnant. Well, Barbara Jean hadn't told her the news yet, but after seeing her mother's disastrous weather forecast she couldn't help but feel that she would be getting another half-sibling.

"Don't worry about it," Skyler assured her with a shrug. "They get on your nerves, we'll just leave sooner than we planned. No big."

Bryce nodded in agreement. "Yeah. And you said that you and your mom have been getting along great ever since…well, you know."

"I know, I guess the stress from the tour is making me more nervous than usual," Kyra replied, trying not to wince at Bryce's reference to "the incident" a few months ago, where she'd nearly been assaulted after getting drunk at a bar. The guys still didn't know the full story – that the friend she'd been with had actually been her eighteen-year-old mother – and they never would. She didn't need them thinking she was more insane than they already thought she was. Besides, she'd handled it herself. She was a little jumpy and nervous for a few months afterwards, but now she was back to normal again…for the most part. Since then, she'd made sure not to get drunk.

Cody had been randomly strumming his guitar, but paused when he realized something. "Hey…how is Nell? She okay?"

"Yeah, you haven't mentioned her _once_ since then," Skyler pointed out.

Giving them a weak smile, Kyra gulped. _Oh, yeah, she's doing great. She went back to the 1970s and became my current mother._ "Uh, she…she…moved away. Yeah, moved with her family to…California. I haven't really seen her much since."

"That's a shame. You two seemed so close," Bryce remarked.

Kyra had to suppress a chuckle at that. "Yeah, we were, I guess. But we still keep in touch."

"Well, tell her we said 'hi' the next time you talk to her," Cody replied.

Trying not to burst out laughing at the irony of the conversation, Kyra merely nodded. "Sure." Then she glanced out the window and noticed that they were nearing her house. "Hey, guys, this is my street. I'll meet you at the hotel tomorrow, 'k?"

"Yeah," Bryce answered. "Just make sure you're on time for the sound check for that local gig tomorrow night. The club owner really hates it when bands are late."

"I'll be there," Kyra assured them. She said good-bye to them all, then grabbed her overnight bag from the table and went down the steps as the bus pulled up to her house. As she walked up the path, she had to wonder if maybe she should've called first. Given the past year or so, Kyra was worried that another surprise just might bring back her mother's high blood pressure. Nevertheless, she used the key she'd kept and let out a deep breath as she entered the house.

"I'm _back_!" she shouted to anyone who happened to be in the house. "Van and anyone else unequipped with sarcastic comebacks, beware!"

"Kyra? What the heck are you doing here?"

Kyra looked up as Barbara Jean…well, her mother in Barbara Jean's body, entered from the kitchen. "Hey Mom. There's something different about you…you get a hair cut?"

"Ha, ha," Reba replied, embracing her daughter in a tight hug. "I miss you. A few days for Christmas was not enough."

"I miss you too," Kyra said truthfully. As much as they butted heads before, she did miss her mother.

They broke apart and headed into the kitchen, sitting at the table. Noting the small size of Kyra's bag when she put it next to them on the floor, Reba remarked, "I take it you aren't staying long this time either."

"No," Kyra told her with an apologetic shrug. "We have a gig in town, so I thought I'd crash here for the night. You don't mind, right?"

"Yeah, I do – I turned your room into an office," Reba joked.

Giving her mother an amused look, Kyra asked, "So where's Jake? I haven't teased him enough yet for that locker door incident."

"Hey stayed late after school for basketball practice," Reba explained. "As you may or may not know, Barbara Jean is staying here after a fight with Brock, but Henry's sleeping over tonight too. She took him out to dinner for some quality time…though I suppose he's a little confused why he's going out with me and not his mother."

Kyra raised an eyebrow at that. "You haven't told him about the switch? Anyone else still in the dark?"

"Well, there's Henry…and Elizabeth…and…" Reba trailed off, not quite looking her daughter in the eye. "Your…um…father."

"Dad still doesn't know about all this?" Kyra exclaimed. "So are you pretending to be married to him again? You know, I'm beginning to think you like these little trips into psycho world 'cause you get to be married to Dad!"

"Hey! That was totally uncalled for!" Reba argued, her eyes narrowing in anger.

Kyra's shoulders sagged as she realized her mother was right. She really did have no reason to believe that, nor was she around enough to pass accurate judgment. It was just that…she remembered how close her mother had been to falling back in love with her father the first time, and this situation for the moment had brought back old fears. "I'm sorry, Mom. I was just…remembering…and I got worried."

Her hard expression softening, Reba assured her, "Don't worry, there's nothing going on between me and your father. I'm just waiting because he doesn't know about Terry, and therefore would probably check both his wife and me into a mental institution if we tried to convince him of the switch. And before you ask, I can't call Terry 'cause the angelic butt is 'on vacation.'"

"Alright then. How are holding up with your…current case of 'blonde bimboitis'?" Kyra asked. While she knew that she was talking to her mother, she had to keep reminding herself of the fact. Usually when she talked to Barbara Jean's body, she was talking to Barbara Jean as well.

Chuckling, Reba answered, "It's driving me crazy. Jake told me you saw the weather forecast…imagine that a few times a day. Pretending to be Barbara Jean is no picnic either. Not to mention that while I'm at her work, I have to imagine the disaster she's most likely causing at mine. On top of that I'm barfing constantly…oops."

"Mom, I know Barbara Jean's pregnant," Kyra sighed.

Reba raised an eyebrow. "How did you know that?"

"Just a feeling," Kyra said with a shrug. "And you have been looking paler and paler with each weather forecast."

"Don't remind me," Reba sighed.

Tilting her head, Kyra decided to change the subject and ask something she'd been wondering ever since her chat with Jake. "Hey, Mom…how's the 'true love' aspect of this wish going so far? I'm not exactly sure what was going through Terry's deranged mind when he did this _hilarious_…I mean, upsetting thing to you."

Reba glared at her for a brief second, and it was clear she'd gotten a sense of Kyra's true feelings of the situation. But she shrugged it off and explained, "As much as this really bugs me, it has helped. I've been so wrapped up with Adam, I haven't been able to look at our relationship objectively. And now that I have…I like what I see. Kyra…I think…if he does ask me to marry him…I won't say no."

Shocked into silence, Kyra just stared at her mother for a second. _Whoa_, she thought, her mind going about a mile a minute. _Now…there's some unexpected news. _But she supposed she shouldn't have been so overwhelmed. Really, she'd never seen her mother so…happy, so in-love, as in these past few months with Adam. Finally, she smiled wide and hugged her mother. "That's great, but I just hope he knows what he's getting himself into."

* * *

A/N: I had another scene planned, but I decided to nix it (if you'll notice, this doesn't fit my traditional three-section per chapter mold) - you people have waited long enough. And as for that second section...come on, did you really think I'd go through a whole "Reba" story and not put Kyra in it?


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Okay, so I'm really, really, really sorry for the long wait. You are all awesome for reviewing and sticking with this story. If it makes you feel any better, this chapter came out pretty long.

On the personal front, I should be updating more often from now on. Final exams were over on the 19th, and once I get back from visiting relatives on the 2nd, I should be able to plow through the rest and get this done. Classes don't start again until the 22nd, so more fanfiction writing time for me! Woohoo!

I've also been considering adding another story to this little series I've got going on. Following my tradition of using cliché movie plots, it would be called "Living with Myself." In it, Reba would be divided into three different personalities, with each "Reba" taking over an area of her busy life.

I hope everyone had a good holiday, Happy New Year! And enjoy the chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Barbara Jean yawned as she entered the kitchen. Kyra had gone back on tour with her band a couple of days ago, and it was now Saturday morning. While seeing her stepdaughter had been great, the stay had been entirely too short. Barbara Jean always liked to think she had a bond with Kyra when the teen left, so in a way that was confirmed by how much she missed her. With that thought, she had to imagine how hard this was for Reba. Reba tried to put on a good front when her youngest daughter went out the door once again, but Barbara Jean could tell the departure was still bothering her after two days.

Seeing that both Reba and Jake were having breakfast, she sat down on one of the bar stools and greeted, "Good morning, everyone." She sniffed the air. "What's cooking?"

"Bacon," Reba replied, putting some on a plate.

Barbara Jean raised an eyebrow at that. "I thought the smell of meat frying was making you sick."

"Well, apparently now it makes me hungry," Reba replied, stuffing a big piece in her mouth. She let out a sigh of pleasure. "Lord, that's good."

"She's been like this all morning. She ate _my_ breakfast," Jake whined from his seat at the kitchen. He'd been told about Barbara Jean…well, Reba's current physical condition, but warned not to tell his father.

Reba frowned with apology. "I'm sorry, sweetie. But I made you more pancakes, see?" With that, she went over and slid the fresh pancakes onto her son's plate...but still kept one or two for herself.

Chuckling, Barbara Jean asked, "Cravings kicking in, I guess?"

"Yup, and the strangest ones too," Reba answered. At that, she took a carton of ice cream out of the freezer, scooped some in a bowl, and proceeded to dip her bacon in it.

Both Barbara Jean and Jake shivered with disgust, the latter exclaiming, "_Gross_! If I did that, I'd get in trouble."

"You're not pregnant," Reba retorted simply, enjoying her "breakfast" despite their stares. "I don't know what it is...I just really wanted something salty _and_ sweet at the same time. This worked."

Barbara Jean put a hand to her mouth, sure she was going to puke. "Well, can you at least take it somewhere else? You're making _me_ sick."

"It's only fair. If I have to go through _your_ pregnancy, you have to suffer too," Reba snapped.

Shaking her head, Barbara Jean said, "Terry better switch us back soon. In fact…hasn't it been a week?"

Reba's jaw dropped slightly. "You know, I was so busy making breakfast, I didn't even think of it."

"What are you talking about?" Jake asked.

"He's been on vacation for the past week and we haven't been able to reach him," Reba explained. "I should try calling for him."

"Yes, please!" Barbara Jean begged.

Curious, Jake asked, "Do you really think he'll switch you back just because he's not on vacation anymore?"

"He better," Reba retorted. Clearing her throat, she shouted, "Terry!"

Half expecting a note to appear out of thin air again, Barbara Jean nearly jumped out of her skin when a man appeared a few feet away from her. Noting Reba's calm expression, Barbara Jean asked, "Does he do that a lot?"

"Whoa…that was awesome!" Jake said, staring at Terry.

"Thank you very much," Terry replied with a chuckle. Turning to the other two, he asked casually, "So how can I help you ladies?"

Reba glared at him. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

"What, no 'how was your vacation'?" Terry joked, ignoring her threatening tone.

Walking around the counter, Reba said in an eerie, even tone, "I've taken a lot of crap from you, Terry. But this…_this_ is really low. Switching bodies? That's a little unoriginal, even for you. And I swear if you don't switch us back, I'll pray _real_ hard that you get your wings clipped."

"Reba…maybe you should calm down…" Barbara Jean interrupted, worried for her best friend. She didn't know much about this sort of situation, but threatening an angel couldn't be a wise thing to do.

But Terry seemed to take it in stride. "Look, Reba, you know that whatever I do can't be reversed unless the wish is fulfilled. And so far, there hasn't been a clear indication that it has."

"But how am I supposed to be with my true love if I'm stuck in someone else's body?" Reba exclaimed, now at her wits' end.

Sympathy for her in his face, Terry suggested, "It might help if he _knew_ he was with his true love."

That seemed to quiet Reba down for a second. "You're suggesting I…tell Adam? Looking like this?"

"All I'm saying is that, if he really loves you, he'll listen to you…and that goes for you too, Barbara Jean," Terry added with a sidelong glance at the other woman.

Tilting her head in consideration, Reba asked, "You'll be here, right? In case we need backup?"

"Always," Terry promised. "I take it you don't need me anymore?"

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll see you later," Reba said.

Terry nodded good-bye to the other two, then vanished in the same manner he'd appeared a few minutes ago.

"That's so _cool_!" Jake exclaimed. "Call him again!"

Sighing with exasperation, Reba asked, "Jake, don't you have somewhere to go?"

Jake took the hint and got up from the table. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going to my friend's house. I'll call later. Bye, Barbara Jean."

"Bye, Jake," Barbara Jean called, but in truth she was so lost in her thoughts she almost didn't hear him. Terry made it clear that she should talk to Brock. And honestly, it wasn't a bad idea. She'd done a lot of thinking since her run-in with Brock. It was slowly occurring to her that she couldn't avoid him forever – he needed to know that he was going to have another child. Not to mention that they would need to sit down and have a _really_ long talk about their marriage and how the pregnancy would affect that…

"Barbara Jean, you okay?" Reba asked, noting the far-off look on her best friend's face.

Shrugging, Barbara Jean replied, "Yeah, I'm fine, just thinking that sooner or later I'm going to have to talk to Brock."

"How about tonight?"

At that, Barbara Jean raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"How about this," Reba explained. "We'll do it at the same time, for moral support. We'll invite the guys over tonight, and Adam and I can go into the kitchen while you have a conversation with Brock in the living room."

Sighing, Barbara Jean had to admit that the thought of Reba going through the same thing she was at the exact same time was a comforting one. "Okay, tonight it is." Then she picked up the phone to call Brock before she lost her nerve.

* * *

Pulling up to his ex-wife's house, Brock checked his appearance in the car's rearview mirror. He'd just dropped Henry off at his daughter's house. Cheyenne and Van had been ecstatic when he told them he was finally going to talk to his wife. Honestly, Brock had to admit that he was happy about this turn of events as well. The past few days without Barbara Jean had been hard and unpleasant. But he felt they were worth it if Barbara Jean was willing to have a reasonable conversation because of them.

Brock ran a hand through his hair, wincing at his reflection. He'd been doing errands all day and didn't have enough time to get ready for this date as he normally would. Oh well, Barbara Jean had been living at Reba's for the past week without all her stuff. There was no way she could look better than him.

Satisfied, he got out of the car and started up the front walk. He was surprised to see Adam ahead of him. While he got along with the guy well enough, Brock still kept a wary eye on him. If there was any sign that Adam was planning on breaking Reba's heart, Brock would track him down and beat him to a pulp.

A friendly smile on his face, Brock greeted, "Hey, Adam. You and Reba going out tonight?"

"Yup. Hey, ah, I heard that Barbara Jean was staying at Reba's…sorry, man," Adam said with uncertain frown. It was clear that the other man intimidated him.

Brock had no problem with that. Shrugging, he replied, "Eh, we'll get through this. She invited me over tonight."

"Does she have big news for you, too?" Adam replied with a smirk.

At that, Brock paused. _Reba has big news?_ Brock thought, just a little hurt. _What big news? Maybe it's something I know that Adam doesn't. She wouldn't tell him something big before me…right?_ Not wanting to appear left out, Brock gave a nervous laugh. "O-oh….she's telling you _that_ tonight? Did she…did she give you any hints?"

"No. Cheyenne did, though I think she was kidding…at least, I hope so," Adam answered, forcing a chuckle.

_What the heck is he talking about?_ Brock wondered. The curiosity was killing him…but he didn't have time to rush in and interrogate Reba. "I-I'm sure she was. G-good luck with that."

"Hey, Brock, just between us guys," Adam said, his eyes for the first time betraying how nervous he really was. "What am I in for? I'm not asking for you to tell me Reba's secret…that wouldn't be cool…but…how big is it? 'Relationship changing' big? Or 'I have a sixth toe' kinda big?"

"Well, she definitely doesn't have a sixth toe," Brock joked in an attempt to avoid answering the question.

Adam breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Whew, that's good, but seriously…"

"What are ya'll doin' standing out here?"

The two jumped as Barbara Jean opened the door. Sending a silent thank-you to his unknowing wife for the distraction, Brock answered, "Hey, honey. We were just having some manly conversation."

"Something so rare around here," Adam quipped as he and Brock entered the house. "Reba ready yet?"

Brock watched as his wife hesitated. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was something…off about her. The few times he'd seen her in the past week, she seemed so unlike herself. The same went for Reba, now that he thought about it. "Honey…you okay?" When there was no response, he prodded, "Honey?"

"Oh, right, that's me," Barbara Jean blurted, her face reddened in embarrassment. "I mean, uh…she'll be down in a minute. Actually, Adam…can I talk to you? In the kitchen?"

Confused, Brock traded bewildered looks with the other man before saying, "Why? Is everything alright, Barbara Jean?"

"Yeah, I just need to talk to Adam. B…Reba has to talk to you too, Brock," Barbara Jean answered. Without another word, Barbara Jean began pulling the other man into the kitchen, with Adam giving Brock an apologetic look on the way.

Left alone in the living room, Brock tried to make sense of what happened. He thought they were going on a date, but…his wife just went into the kitchen with another man. Hopefully Reba would clue him in once she got downstairs and told him…whatever she had to tell him.

"Hey, Brock."

Brock looked up as Reba came down the stairs. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she seemed different somehow. She was making eye contact with him, but he could tell it was only because of a big effort on her part. And she seemed uncomfortable in her own skin, barely keeping her hands still. "Hey, Reba. What's this about?"

"I…I mean, Barbara Jean wanted me to tell you something. For her. She's too nervous about what you'll think," Reba began with uncharacteristic anxiety. She relaxed somewhat as they both sat down on the couch, but not by much.

Brock raised an eyebrow. "And you agreed to do it? That's not like you."

"I know, but…she was just so scared, and it's something you really…and I mean _really_ need to know…" Reba insisted.

_Something's wrong here,_ Brock thought. _Maybe not wrong, but…off. This just isn't Reba…but then again, who else could it be?_ Clearing his throat, he braced himself as he asked, "Well, what is it?"

"Okay, this is going to be hard, but I'm just gonna say it," Reba said. Then the hesitated. The silence was just about reaching unbearable when she just let it out. "Brock…I'm…I mean, Barbara Jean's pregnant. With your child."

Instead of reacting, Brock sat back and put his chin in his hand with a contemplative, "Huh."

At that, Reba's head snapped up. "What? I just told you that I'm…Barbara's Jean's _pregnant_, and all you can say is 'huh'?"

"Well, give me a minute!" Brock replied. Now that he sat there, he could feel the emotions overtake him. The shock, the anxiety, the…complete surprise of it all. While he'd never been one-hundred-percent behind having a fifth child, he supposed it was always a possibility. True, he supposed he could go into the daunting aspects of it – he was going to be a father _again_, which meant raising a baby while he wasn't his youngest, going through the whole process once more – he only thought of how it was going to affect the here and now.

If Barbara Jean was having a baby, then their marriage was saved. At least, that's how he saw it. He could picture it now. They would be able to rekindle their relationship over preparing for the baby. This was probably the best news they could've gotten.

Still in somewhat of a daze, Brock gave Reba a happy smile. "I can't believe it! That's great!"

Reba stared at him in shock, as if not daring to believe him. "Really?"

"Yeah! I think this is just what our marriage needed. And you know, I was watching Elizabeth the other day…I wouldn't mind having another little girl," Brock said, his mind already going a mile a minute, running plans for what would most likely be his last child through his head.

Her face lit up with happiness, Reba exclaimed, "Oh my God, I'm so happy you're happy! I love you so much!"

Then, all of Brock's thoughts came to a screeching halt as Reba planted a huge kiss on his lips.

_What the hell?_ Brock thought, trying to escape out from under her. Finally he managed to hold her at arms' length. "Reba, what the hell are you doing?"

"Reba? Oh, right…"

Then she fainted in his arms.

_Oh my God!_ Brock thought, memories of Cheyenne and Van's vow renewal rushing back to him. But…for some reason, this didn't feel like the same thing. "Reba!" Brock called, trying to shake her awake. "Reba, wake up!"

* * *

"So what's up, Barbara Jean?" Adam asked, closing the door behind them as he and Barbara Jean entered the kitchen.

Pacing a small area in front of the counter, Barbara Jean indicated one of the chairs at the table. "Maybe you should sit down."

Adam gave her a confused look, but sat down anyway. He and Barbara Jean weren't particularly close. Since they first met, she had been too busy grilling him like a piece of meat to bother with getting to know him. He didn't resent her for it, of course – she was just looking out for her best friend. After almost a year of him and Reba going out, she was beginning to look beyond the "Reba's boyfriend" label…but they weren't comfortable enough to be alone in a room together. Which was why Adam found himself fidgeting in his seat. "Um, if this is a serious problem you're having, might I suggest talking to Reba? Or Brock? Or Cheyenne? Or Van? Or Jake? Heck, you have Kyra's cell number, I'm sure she would…"

"Adam!" Barbara Jean interrupted, a small smile on her face. "You're rambling."

His shoulders sagging, Adam replied, "Well, no offense, Barbara Jean, but I'm not the best advice giver in the world."

"I don't need advice," Barbara Jean said, sitting down next to him.

Squirming, Adam asked, "Well…then…what, ah, _do_ you need?"

"To tell you something very important," Barbara Jean answered, letting out a deep breath. "Look, here's the thing…the woman you think you're talking to, isn't the woman you're talking to."

Adam blinked. He was sure that in her mind, what she'd just said made perfect sense. Something must've been lost in the translation. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not Barbara Jean."

Raising an eyebrow, Adam tried to keep his disbelief in check as he said, "Of course you're Barbara Jean. Unless you have a twin sister I don't know about."

"That's not what I meant," Barbara Jean insisted, pleading in her voice. "Adam…it's me, Reba."

Adam sat there for a moment while he attempted to decipher what that was supposed to mean. After a _long_ silence, he squeaked, "W-what? Barbara Jean, this isn't funny. If you really believe you're Reba, then we need to get you some counseling…"

Groaning with frustration, Barbara Jean explained, "No, no, this isn't a joke, and I'm not insane…though sometimes I myself question that on a daily basis. Adam…do you believe in magic? At all? That there's a chance the forces we only dream of…actually exist?"

"Not really," Adam replied, his heart beginning to pound. He was alone…with someone who he was beginning to think wasn't all there.

Barbara Jean shook her head in exasperation, as if _he_ were the one making this conversation difficult. "Okay, here's what happened, or at least the short version of it. Barbara Jean and I – Reba – switched bodies. You're actually talking to Reba right now."

"No offense, Barbara Jean, but I think you've seen _Freaky Friday_ one too many times," Adam quipped, trying to keep the anxiety and throbbing fear of _"I need to get help before she goes psycho and tries to kill me"_ out of his voice.

"Adam, please, just…listen. I don't expect you to believe this without proof. Heck, if I was in your place, I'd be running out the door right about now," Barbara Jean said with a quick glance at the door, as if he expected him to leap up at her words and run. Looking back at him, she explained, "Please, let me tell the story. And if you still don't believe me at the end…well, we'll address that when we get to it."

Putting his head in his hands, Adam went through his options. He could run out the door right then, and avoid Barbara Jean for the rest of his life. He could tell Brock what was going on and try to get Barbara Jean a therapist who specialized in delusions. Or…he could sit there and listen to whatever story came out of her mouth. "Fine," he grumbled. "But try to make it as sane as you possibly can."

"Well, I don't want to lie…" Barbara Jean joked. At his glare, she said, "Right. So, it all started a year ago…"

For the next few minutes, she launched into a fantastically surreal story of a guardian angel named Terry, who was actually her ex who died about five years ago. Over the past year, she or a member of her family made a wish on a Christmas star that Terry, acting in his role as guardian angel, had made come true.

After about two minutes he'd had enough. "That's it," Adam exclaimed, getting up out of his seat. "That's enough, you've had your fun, now stop messing around."

"W-what?" Barbara Jean sputtered, looking like she was honestly surprised.

Adam shook his head in disgust. "This is a sick joke, Barbara Jean. I know we've never gotten along, but this…this is just cruel. Do you have a camera around here somewhere so you can get a picture of my face when I actually believe this crap?"

"No, don't be ridiculous, I – "

"You're telling _me_ not to be ridiculous?" Adam shouted, feeling anger mix with his incredulity. How dare _she_ accuse _him_ of being ridiculous! "Do you hear yourself, Barbara Jean? Did Reba put you up to this? Does she want to break up with me, and thought this would scare me away? Because here's some news for you – it's _working_!" Before he realized what he was doing, he was heading for the door.

Before he could get there, she was grabbing his shoulder and whirling him around to face her. "No, Adam, please!"

Then she gave him a passionate kiss.

"What the heck…" Adam trailed off, his brain becoming fuzzy and his capability for forming coherent words steadily decreasing. _Oh my God_, Adam thought. While at first he was horrified that she'd kissed him, now he was more horrified that he was kissing her back. He should've been pushing her away, outraged that he was cheating on his girlfriend.

But…this didn't feel like he was cheating on Reba. It was a strange sensation he was experiencing. While the lips he was kissing weren't Reba's, they felt like…the movement, felt _exactly_ like…

_Oh God_.

Once she broke apart, leaving them both gasping for air, he gulped, "R-Reba?"

"Thank the Lord," she muttered, relief in her eyes.

Then those same eyes rolled back as she collapsed into him, unconscious.

"Oh my God!" Adam exclaimed. Making sure not to hurt her, he held her tight as he sunk to the floor.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

She was floating. She was unconscious, but Barbara Jean could feel herself being lifted into the air and flying. Then crash landing into her body with a heart-stopping _thud_.

Rolling her head from side to side, she realized that she was now conscious…somewhat. But she was so sick to her stomach that she thought it would be better to just rest there for a little while longer…

"_So you're saying that Barbara Jean told you some crazy story about her and Reba switching bodies?"_

"_Yeah, but the crazy thing is that I think I believe her."_

"_What? Come on, Barbara Jean was probably just joking with you. She does that."_

"_I thought she was, but, um, she did something…"_

"_Did what?"_

"_She…hey, I think Barbara Jean…or Reba, whoever that is…just moved!"_

As Barbara Jean listened to the conversation between her husband and Adam, she smiled with her eyes still closed. _Reba convinced Adam! _She thought, delighted for her friend. _I'll have to ask her how it went later…_

_Because right now, I'm going to hurl._

Feeling her stomach churn, Barbara Jean sat up from where she found herself on the living room couch, startling the two men. "Outta my way!" she cried, running up the stairs towards the bathroom. Slamming the door open, she leaned over the toilet and promptly spilled her guts into it, holding her hair to the side.

Her _blonde_ hair.

And she was _puking_.

Which meant…

Her eyes widening, she wiped her mouth as she stood over the bowl. "I just _threw up_!" she exclaimed, happy excitement overcoming her. Keeping her breath steady, she went to the sink and looked in the vanity mirror.

Yes, she was in _her_ body. That was _her_ blonde hair, _her_ manicured hands (at least they _were_ manicured – Reba clearly did not care about nail maintenance), and _her_ pregnant belly…that she was sure was starting to show.

Barbara Jean pumped her fist in the air and shouted, "Oh, yeah, baby! I'm back!"

"Honey, are you okay?"

Startled, Barbara Jean froze when she realized that was her husband's voice coming through the door. "Yeah, fine, Brock. Just a little queasy."

"You _are_ my wife, right? Adam has some crazy idea that you and Reba switched bodies…"

Barbara Jean smiled with amusement. "We _did_ switch bodies, Brock. You really think _Reba_ would kiss you like that?"

"Well, that's what I figured it would take for Reba to…wait, how did you know…oh _God_!"

Laughing, Barbara Jean felt a little sorry for Brock. It wasn't easy realizing that body switching was actually possible. When there was a long silence she called, "Brock, are _you_ okay?"

"Um, fine…just…w-what, w-when…_how_?"

"It's a long story, sweetie. I think it would be better if Reba and I explained it to you later. Chances are that where Adam is concerned, she still has a _lot_ of 'splaining to do," Barbara Jean answered, finishing off the last part with her best Ricky Ricardo accent.

"So…that conversation I thought I was having with Reba…that was you right?"

"Yeah. I'm so happy you're okay with this!" Barbara Jean said, excited but still queasy enough to want to stay near the toilet. "When you said 'huh' I got a little worried, but then your face just lit up and… oh, honey, I love you so much!"

"Love you too…but, um, I think we still need to talk."

In her reflection in the mirror, Barbara Jean could see her lips form a frown and the excitement fade from her eyes. In the rush of telling her husband she was pregnant, she forgot about their current marriage problems. "Oh, yeah, sure…just let me clean up in here and I'll be right out."

Two minutes later, they were slumped against either side of the narrow hallway facing each other. "So you want to start?" Brock offered.

"I'm not sure if I know how," Barbara Jean confessed. "Our problem is that we've lost our ability to communicate in a way that enhances our romantic relationship."

Brock raised an eyebrow. "You've been watching daytime talk shows again, haven't you?"

"Maybe," Barbara Jean answered with a sheepish shrug. "But they're right. I think our whole problem started when we just…stopped talking."

A heavy sigh escaping his lips, Brock reasoned, "That's true, but when I get home for work I'm sick of talking. You try keeping up a conversation with someone who has a suction hose in his mouth!"

"But I haven't been doing anything all day!" Barbara Jean reminded him. "The problem is that you don't realize that I have wants and needs too. That's why our brief reconciliation faded so quickly – you lost interest in being together all the time. I'd want to go out on the weekends, or just talk when you got home…but you'd always want to be alone."

Brock gave her an exasperated frown. "I love you, Barbara Jean, I really do. But a man needs his space! Look, I love spending time with you, but there can be too much of a good thing. Everyone needs to spend time with themselves at times."

Considering his argument, Barbara Jean had to admit to herself that he had a point. She knew she had an outgoing and bubbly personality, though that same personality sometimes tended to annoy people. She also knew that sometimes she didn't know when she was annoying someone. But she felt that while that might touch on what Brock meant, he was really referring to her obsessive nature. She just couldn't help it, though. When she loved someone, she held on to them. Tightly. "I'm sorry, but sometimes…you push me away, and all I want to do is hold you closer. I guess that could be _annoying_ but…I worry about you, Brock. I worry if I _don't_ keep my claws in you, you'll get away."

"But I don't want to 'get away'," Brock said, taking her hand in his. "I think our problem has always been that we just can't find a balance. We're either on cloud nine or on the verge of divorce. If we can find that balance…then I think we'll be okay."

Putting her fingers through his for a brief moment, Barbara Jean wiped a tear out of her eye with her free hand. "Yeah, I think we will."

Brock smiled and kissed her on the lips. Then he got up, stretched his legs, and started towards the stairs. It was a few moments before he realized that his wife wasn't following him. Turning around, he raised an eyebrow when he saw that she hadn't moved. "What?"

"I'm pregnant. You expect me to get up from the floor on my own?"

Laughing, Brock kissed her again as he helped her to her feet.

* * *

Finding that she could open her eyes, Reba awoke to find herself on the living room couch. She wiped her eyes as she sat up and got her bearings. _Let's see…_she thought, trying to remember what happened before she passed out. _I was in the kitchen, and…oh, Lord, Adam!_

Reba looked around, but her boyfriend was gone. With a sigh she leaned on the back of the couch and put her head in her hands. She couldn't blame him for leaving her, she supposed. What she'd managed to tell him had made her sound like an idiotic crazy person. But she could've sworn she'd gotten him to believe her before…

Gasping, she did a quick hair check and looked in the TV's reflection. It'd taken her a minute to realize it, but…she was definitely herself again. But knowing that the switch hadn't worked just made her more depressed. _I don't get it,_ she thought with frustration, _I thought the wish had to come true in order to…_

She whirled around when she heard a movement behind her. Her face brightened. "Adam!"

"Hey, you're up!" Adam said, smiling as he walked in from the kitchen. He was carrying a tall glass of water and two aspirin in his hand. "I wasn't sure what effects body switching would have, but I thought you might be able to use these."

"Oh yeah," Reba replied, downing both pills with one large gulp of water.

Adam stared at her, as if studying her behavior. "That's…_you_ in there, right? I figured you were switching back since both you _and_ Barbara Jean fainted, but…"

"Yeah, it's me, thank the Lord," Reba said, sighing. "Being Barbara Jean was _not_ fun." She froze, realizing that not only had her boyfriend stayed with her, but he wasn't regarding her as mentally insane. "How…how are you doing with all of this?"

Hesitating, Adam answered, "I gotta admit, I'm a little freaked out. But as long as nothing else…strange…happens for a while I think I'll be fine."

"Well, I can't promise you that," Reba joked. Then she became somewhat serious when she noted his discomfort. "I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't be joking about this. It's actually pretty serious stuff that puts me through hell before it's over."

Adam raised an eyebrow at that. "What do you mean?"

Looking at his concerned face, Reba figured it would be best for both of them if she just started from the beginning…and didn't stop until she reached the end. "Okay, let's see, where did I leave off before I passed out…"

Ten minutes later, Reba was pacing the area in front of Adam, recounting the story to the best of her ability…and leaving out a detail or two to spare her poor, shocked boyfriend. She'd just about finished with her brief trip to the past as Brock and Barbara Jean came down the stairs. "…and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in a hospital bed and Barbara Jean is squeezing me to death…" She trailed off when she noted the couple coming down the stairs. "Barbara Jean, Brock…you two okay?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine," Brock said, his arm around his wife's shoulder's. "We're going to head out to eat and have a _long_ talk. Reba…what was that story you were telling?"

Barbara Jean traded looks with Reba, both having a silent conversation that decided they'd sit Brock down another time. Tugging her husband's arm, Barbara Jean pulled him towards the door. "Come on, Brock, she'll tell you later."

"Alright…" Brock replied, giving the two in the living room a sideways look as he went out the door.

Chuckling, Reba said, "So, where was I –"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up," Adam interrupted. "Brock doesn't know about this?"

Reba gave him a sheepish grin. "Well…"

"That guy is too much," Adam sighed.

Confused, Reba asked, "What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Adam assured her, shaking his head. "So, between the coma and the body switching thing, anything else?"

Reba shrugged. "Maybe…look, as much fun as this is, I think it would be better for both of us if we took a little break from this storytelling thing. You've got enough to process, and I'm _exhausted_. Apparently, switching bodies takes a lot out of you." With that, she fell into the couch next to Adam.

"Okay, but you're telling me the rest of that story later," Adam said, smiling at her.

Feeling like crying with relief, Reba simply grinned. "So…there's going to be a 'later'?"

"I'm pretty sure," Adam replied. Then he got down on one knee.

Reba gasped, the fear that she knew what was coming growing in her heart. "What the heck are you doin' down there?"

"Yeah, it's a little traditional, but I got the feeling that you were a woman who appreciated tradition," Adam said with a grin as he pulled a small box out of his pants' pocket. He opened it to reveal a simple yet beautiful diamond ring that had Reba letting out a small gasp. "I know you're tired – you have every right to be after the ordeal you went through – so I'll keep this brief. I'm not going to go on a long, tedious rant about how beautiful and wonderful you are, because you and I both know you're the most amazing person I've ever met."

Unable to stop smiling, Reba fought to keep her heart beating at a normal pace for the sake of her blood pressure. _I can't believe this is happening to me,_ she thought. Adam was proposing…and she was going to say 'yes.' She couldn't lie – she knew that if he'd done this before the switch, she'd have so many doubts, the sweet proposal would be ruined, with the possibility of irreparable damage. Now…now she knew. But she still had to ask him something. "Are you sure you want to do this?" You do realize you're asking to be tied to chaos and total insanity for the rest of your life."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Adam said. Taking her hand in his free one, he held out the ring. "Reba, will you marry me?"

"Yes," Reba answered, pulling Adam into a deep kiss about a millisecond after he put the ring on her finger.

* * *

A/N: Last chapter, finally! I can't believe this story took me months to finish. On a side note...I think I fell a little flat on this chapter. I wasn't sure how to handle the proposal at the end (finish with a joke or not? expand the scene?). It was basically an inner battle, but I liked the way it came out. Still, sorry if it felt like it wasn't one of my best chapters.

Thank you to all you wonderful reviewers, and I'm glad that you all enjoyed the story. Like I said last chapter (or the one before it, not really sure) I'm thinking of adding a fourth story to the series. But nothing's definite, and if I do add a story it probably won't be for a while.

Anyway, thanks again, and the epilogue should be posted soon!


	11. Epilogue

A/N: Here's the epilogue, finally! I have to confess that I was so determined to get this done that I stayed up until two thirty in the morning finishing this, so I apologize if it was a little...off. So, thank you all so much for your great reviews, and I think I will have the next story up within the month.

* * *

**Epilogue**

The next day, Reba sat at her kitchen table, admiring the ring that had yet to leave her finger. Every member of her family, and Lori Ann, was in the living room for a "celebration party," as Barbara Jean had called it. The gathering had been tough to categorize, since they were celebrating both the blonde's pregnancy and Reba's engagement. She was in the kitchen because…well…her family had been there all day, and she was exhausted from the activity of the past few days. She needed a break.

And it didn't help that she…along with Adam…hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.

Smiling to herself, she continued playing with her ring, twisting it different ways to examine it from different angles. Though there was no big flashy diamond, the ring still managed to hold its own beautiful, perfect charm. The band was white gold, with a bunch of small diamonds together in a seemingly random pattern. Reba couldn't help but think it was fitting. Adam explained later on that he and Cheyenne had considered one or two larger diamonds when ring shopping. But since he wanted the diamonds to be symbolic of their impending life together, the thought of two lonely, simple diamonds didn't seem to make much sense.

_This doesn't seem real_, Reba thought to herself. Seven years ago, when her world was falling apart around her, this moment wouldn't have seemed possible. Even as she grew to accept her situation, she never envisioned that she would fall in love again. That just made finding Adam feel all the more special. Although, to her, Adam was special enough on his own.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Reba's head snapped up at the sound of Terry's voice. The angel was sitting across from her, a knowing grin on his face. Pretending to be exasperated, she replied, "Do you _ever_ use the door?"

"Not if I can help it," Terry joked, leaning back on his chair. "So…_are_ you enjoying yourself? Are you okay?"

Unable to help herself, she retorted, "Why, Terry, that almost sounds like genuine concern for my current feelings. I'm shocked."

"Oh come on, you can't still be mad," Terry argued. "I did all this for _your_ benefit, you know. Most other guardian angels disagree, but I've always felt that a hands-on approach gets the best results…"

Reba chuckled, amused by his flustered expression. "Relax, I'm just teasin'. After all, if it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't have this," she explained, holding up her engagement ring.

Whistling in admiration, Terry gave it a close look and nodded in approval. "That is one beautiful ring. Congratulations, Reba."

"Thanks," Reba said, her smile wide. "And, thanks for, you know…everything. As much as I hate it when you do this, I've got to admit that it helped. Being in Barbara Jean's situation made me realize how lucky I am to have Adam and that I shouldn't let him go. But for the most part, it was being able to clear my head…well, not _my_ head, but you get the idea…that helped the most. The way I was going, I don't think I ever would've been able to sort out my feelings for Adam, and in the long run it might have ruined our relationship. So, while there _were_ times I wanted to strangle you…you really did me a big favor."

Terry shrugged with modesty, his face a light shade of red. "No problem. Honestly, most of the time this is just fun for me."

_And there goes that touching moment_, Reba thought, resisting the urge to smack him. That was always how it was when he was alive, too. No touching moment lasted long with his sense of humor. "You can't just accept a compliment, can you?"

"It was though!" Terry answered, chuckling. "Sure, I could do this angel thing the regular way, with vague 'signs from above,' appeals to your moral conscience, and all that crap, but what's the fun in that? You gotta admit, it's made your life much more interesting."

"As if it wasn't interesting enough," Reba muttered while she shook her head in disbelief. _Sure, I'm the only human being stuck with a rebel guardian angel._

The living room erupted in laughter, startling the both of them. For a moment, Reba had almost forgotten there was a party in the other room. As if on cue, Terry got up from the table. "Hey, where you goin'?" Reba asked.

"Well, you've got your party to get back to…"

Reba got up from her seat and began pulling him towards the living room. "When have you ever been one to turn down a party? Come on!"

"Whoa, wait, Reba!" Terry protested, trying to free his hand from hers. "Brock's in there!"

Hesitating, Reba tried to make sense of his argument. "Don't worry, he knows about you. Everyone in there does."

Terry squirmed, his eyes not meeting hers. "That's not what I meant. Um, the last time I saw Brock…well, I wasn't exactly on his good side…"

"Oh…my…Lord…" Reba gasped. But this wasn't out of shock. She began to laugh so hard she needed to pause for breath. "Oh, this…is…rich! You're afraid of Brock!"

Glaring at her, Terry argued, "I am not 'afraid of Brock.' I'm just…._worried_…that I might not be well received given that the last time I saw him…I wanted to kill him…"

_Oh yeah,_ Reba thought. _Brock never tried to get in touch with Terry after college. So the last time was that night that we told Terry that I was leaving him for Brock…shoot, I'm surprised Terry was willing to be my guardian angel in the first place, after what I did to him._ Swallowing her guilt, not for the first time, she took Terry's arm and once again began to guide him toward the door. "Come _on_. Brock will have to deal with it."

* * *

"How are you doing?" Reba asked, sneaking over to Adam a little while later. The party was winding down, with only Brock, Barbara Jean, (Henry had fallen asleep an hour ago and put to bed upstairs) and Terry left. She'd noticed her fiancé standing in a corner and decided to check up on him.

Shaking his head, Adam put his arm around his shoulders as he looked at the three remaining partygoers on the couch. "Honestly, I don't know what's weirder. The fact that you're best friends with your ex-husband's mistress, or that your guardian angel comes to your parties."

"Most days it's a toss up for me too," Reba laughed, giving him a quick kiss. "But you'll get used to it."

"Looking forward to it," Adam chuckled. "So tell me…what's going on with Brock and Terry? Once Brock got over the initial shock, he seemed a little tense."

Reba laughed again as she replayed the priceless reaction in her head. Even more so than anyone else she'd told, Brock had totally freaked out at the sight of Terry. He admitted to her afterward that he was horrified that Terry would still be angry about what he did. "Well, Terry, Brock and I have a very long history…"

"Oh, God, no more surprises, please!" Adam begged, putting a finger over her lips.

Figuring that he'd been through enough, Reba only nodded in agreement. "Okay, okay, I'll spare you."

Smiles on their faces, the two held hands as they joined the group on the couch, catching the end of what Brock was saying. "…and it's not that I was _running away_ from you, per se…" Brock was explaining to Terry in a thin attempt to explain his cowardice. "But Reba had just broken up with you. I-I wanted to give you time to digest the information."

"And you figured I'd have more time if you burned rubber on your way out the door?" Terry retorted.

At that point in the conversation, Barbara Jean was glaring at her husband with disproval. "You just up and left Reba to fend for herself like that?"

"Well…it's not like Terry would've hit a _girl_," Brock defended.

Adam sighed and whispered to Reba, "No wonder you divorced him."

"Eh, _that_ I forgave him for. Terry did look like he was ready to kill Brock," Reba whispered back.

Interrupting Brock's arguments, Terry said, "Look, that was what, twenty years ago? Get over it, man. I'm dead – what the hell do I care anymore?"

"Huh…interesting point," Brock replied, effectively rendered speechless for the moment.

"Well, it's been great, but I have to go," Terry said, standing up. "You know, other business to attend to and all that. Congratulations to all of you…and Reba, I'll see you soon." With that, he disappeared.

Ignoring the shocked looks on the others' faces, Reba closed her eyes for a brief second. _"See you soon"? Oh, Lord…_ Opening her eyes again, she pushed that thought out of her head. Looking toward Brock and Barbara Jean, she asked, "So, are you two heading out soon?"

Barbara Jean was about to argue, but maybe for the first time in her life, she caught Reba's quiet insistence to get out and nodded. "Yeah, but we wanted to ask you two something."

"Now we realize this might be a little…unconventional…" Brock began. At his words, the four of them cracked up. "Seriously now, we realize this might not be appropriate here, but we were wondering…"

"If you two could be the baby's godparents," Barbara Jean finished, a huge smile on her face.

Reba's jaw dropped, trading stunned looks with an even more shocked Adam. Her mind flashed back to Brock and Barbara Jean's wedding and her inappropriate attendance, but…this was different. They'd both sat down and talked about their decision and thought that she and her fiancé would be the best godparents for their baby. When Adam smiled, she nodded. "Of course."

"We'd be honored," Adam added.

After Barbara Jean hugged her out of excitement, Reba got up from the couch. "Now, both of you – out!"

"And we're back," Brock muttered. It was a few more minutes until they'd gotten Henry and were out the door.

Finally left alone, Adam put his arm around Reba as they settled down on the couch. "Reba…I love your family…but have you all ever considered therapy?"

"Been there, done that, declared normal," Reba answered. And enjoyed the cute, incredulous look on his face as she leaned in to kiss him.


End file.
